


Smile With Your Teeth (And They Just Might Believe You)

by laurenamberly



Series: Grin and Bear it (Until You Can't Any Longer) [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adolescent Sexuality, Alternate Universe - High School, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Annoyed Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel & Meg Masters Friendship, Castiel (Supernatural) is Called Clarence, Chuck Shurley is Not God, Comedy, Coming Out, Dead Mary Winchester, Embarrassment, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Dates, First Love, Gabe Being an Asshole, Gabriel Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gay Panic, Good Parent Chuck Shurley, Happy Ending, Implied John Winchester being an asshole, Internalized Homophobia, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Meg Masters Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Musician Castiel (Supernatural), Nerd Dean Winchester, Pastor Chuck Shurley, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Religious Castiel, Religious Gabriel, Sarcastic Castiel, Shy Castiel, Shy Dean Winchester, Starbucks, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, Teenagers, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 05:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17278253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurenamberly/pseuds/laurenamberly
Summary: Castiel fucked up.On top of having to contend with the pressures of the end of his high school career - and the pressures that came with being a closeted little gay boy raised in a Christian family - he might have made his own life worse by telling Meg Masters his biggest secret.  It all comes to a head when, suddenly, Dean Winchester and Charlie Bradbury (captains of the SS Gay Pride at their high school) find out about his dreaded homosexuality after a near-scuffle with Dean.With Dean trying to project himself into Castiel's life to 'help,' a lack of understanding about his own parents' view of gay rights, and only one friend (yes, Gabriel, that means you), life quickly becomes hectic.  Soon, Castiel and Gabriel both find themselves firmly invested in a social circle they previously had nothing to do with, and it's all because of Dean's efforts to make Castiel feel safe - normal - and understood.It's much easier to know that there's nothing wrong with you when you have good people telling you to ignore the insecure voices in your head...*rated T for strong language and 'adult' themes (lol)**do not read if you want Castiel/Gabriel, it DOESN'T HAPPEN.*





	Smile With Your Teeth (And They Just Might Believe You)

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written from Christmas Eve 2018 until January 2, 2019. During my winter break, I had bursts of inspiration, and this was the result. 
> 
> I have never posted a Supernatural fanfiction before, despite the fact that Destiel is my very real OTP.  
> When reading, I hope you find as much joy as I had while writing it. I laughed a lot while writing this, and I hope you do too.
> 
> I’m considering maybe writing another separate story about these characters as a short continuation. Thoughts?
> 
>  
> 
> *** “Smile With Your Teeth (And They Just Might Believe You)” is a variation to the lyrics of a Paramore song, Fake Happy. I used it because the song’s tone fit Castiel’s view, I felt — also, it’s a damn good song with damn good lyrics. So, there ya go.***

The world imploded when Dean Winchester stopped Castiel after AP-chem.  


“Hey,” said Dean, quickly falling into step with a horrified Castiel, who tried to walk faster – but to no avail. “Classy, but you’re not getting rid of me that easy.”  


“What do you want?” asked Castiel curtly. The last time he and Dean Winchester said anything to each other, rather rude explicits were uttered – and shouted, quite loudly, on Dean’s part.  


“Look, man, I am trying to _apologize_ to you.”  


At this, Castiel halted in his tracks. Dean skidded to a stop as well, nearly crashing into some ninth-grader with a too-big backpack. As the freshman squeaked and scampered around the pair of not-friends, 

Castiel floundered for an understanding. “I – What do you mean?”  


Dean gave a rather long-suffering sigh, shrugging vaguely as he tried not to look Castiel’s in the eyes. “I – I might have jumped to some – _unethical_ conclusions about you, alright? Conclusions that made you seem like a dick.”  


“Oh,” said Castiel, struggling to see how _on earth_ this constituted as an apology. “And you don’t think I’m a ‘dick’ anymore, then?”  


Dean’s hesitation brought out rather passionate annoyance in Castiel. He immediately huffed and started walking again, stomping his way towards fifth period, only to find Dean running after him again. “Jesus Christ, you’re faster than you look! Come on, man – you gotta admit that, under the circumstances, your reaction wasn’t exactly _positive._ ”  


“I didn’t have a reaction,” snapped Castiel, feeling his own cheeks warming at the memory. “I simply – was _there._ ”  


“I thought you were being an asshole,” said Dean, “and I was wrong. I’m saying sorry, okay? So – _sorry._ ”  


“Great,” said Castiel sharply, “apology accepted.”  


“No, alright? _Not_ great. ‘Cause you clearly don’t mean that, and I need you to mean it!”  


“Why do you care if I accept your apology or not?” demanded Castiel, turning a corner without pause. Dean’s running after him was beginning to garner unwanted attention from passerby. “It’s not as if we’re friends.”  


“You know what?” blurted out Dean. “See, _this_ is why people think you’re a dick, Cas.”  


At this, Castiel whirled around, startling Dean victoriously. He tried to look as annoyed and threatening as possible. It wasn’t that hard, given their history (or lack thereof). “Stop calling me that!”  


“I – What?”  


“That is the third time you’ve called me ‘Cas!’” cried Castiel. “My name has _three_ syllables, Dean Winchester – please, struggle to the end of it!”  


“It’s a fucking nickname!” barked Dean. “It’s – it’s my _thing!_ I nickname everybody!”  


“I’m not ‘everybody!’” said Castiel. “I am _Castiel._ I’m the boy that you’re not friends with, who you _yelled at_ in the middle of a room with _twenty other people_ watching us, over something that I _didn’t do!_ ”  


Dean’s anger deflated by an increment. “Look,” he said, “I don’t know what to tell you, Cas – _Castiel._ I am protective over my friends, and I thought you were being a jackass!”  


“Well, what a knight in shining armor you were,” drawled Castiel sarcastically. “I told you, of course, several times that I am _not_ a bigot, but it’s not like you’d ever listen to me, huh?”  


“Oh, my _God_ ,” said Dean, “you’re fucking _impossible._ ”  


“And you’re exhausting,” snapped Castiel. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to be late for chorus at this rate.”  


Castiel went back on his (not) merry way to class, only to be followed once again by Dean. “Damn it, would you just listen to me?” demanded Dean. “I get that you didn’t mean it, okay? Meg told me everything! But you have to admit that, from my point of view – from _Charlie’s_ – you – Man, you looked _freaked out._ ”  


Once again, Castiel froze mid-step. He looked at Dean, his face ashen, refusing to guess as to what Dean was talking about. As the two blinked at each other, though, and he realized Dean was waiting for a reply, he hastily asked, “What do you mean, Meg told you everything? She told you I’m not the kind of person who – would think that?”  


Dean shrugged limply, not at all noticing the inner turmoil he was pushing Castiel towards. “Well, yeah,” he said. “She told us you were gay.”  


Castiel opened his mouth and – said nothing. He closed his mouth quickly, his cheeks heating up with embarrassment at Dean’s mystified stare, only to nervously shake his head. “I – I have to go. Goodbye, Dean.” With that, Castiel turned tail and left.  


This time, Dean Winchester didn’t bother to follow him. 

  


Castiel played piano during chorus. In tenth grade, when he was struck with laryngitis, he cried when the doctor told him that he was basically exempt from the music department, or wherever singing was concerned, if he wanted to retain his voice. Castiel had to quit the theater program that year – he was all but heartbroken until the choral instructor kindly asked him if he would care to be the accompanist for the school’s choir class. She knew that he played piano very well, well enough to keep up with the complicated piece. Ever since that year, he was basically the school’s go-to pianist.  


He went to chorus feeling immeasurably frazzled. He couldn’t get Dean’s words out of his head – _She told us you were gay._ It made alarm bells sound – it made the world end – it made him wonder who ‘us’ was. Was it just Dean and Charlie? Or were there other people involved in this ‘us?’ What if other people knew about it know, people who were going to make a big deal out of it? What if they knew his parents and ended up bringing it up to _their_ parents, who told _his_ parents, who –  


“Hiya, Castiel,” said Castiel’s best friend with the usual cheerfulness. Gabriel was sitting on Castiel’s and Mrs. Moseley’s piano bench. Gabriel could hardly play Hot-Cross-Buns on the ‘ole ivories,’ as he called it, but he always managed to sneak past Moseley and plop in Castiel’s seat at the beginning of every period. “Why the long face?”  


“Nothing,” said Castiel, which did _wonders_ to Gabriel’s cheerfulness – immediately, his friend’s back straightened, taking Castiel’s tone for what it was: _not here._  


“Oooookay, Cassy-Sunshine. That was – enthusiastic enough. Hey, new topic: my mom needs help for that charity bake-sale, and despite _not at all_ taking my dreams of owning a patisserie on the streets of Paris seriously, she has enlisted my help.”  


“Oh,” said Castiel, vaguely listening, “that sounds like fun.”  


“Doesn’t it?” said Gabriel. “Me, baking with my mom? _What could go wrong?_ ”  


“She’s – baking _with_ you? But… isn’t that kind of a safety hazard?”  


“Oh, my God,” said Gabriel, “can I _please_ quote you on that? She thinks the sun rises and sets with you – if I told her _you_ think it’s ludicrous that she wants to do anything above cooking pasta, she might actually listen for once!”  


“Wh – Don’t tell her I said that!” cried Castiel. “That’s – rude!”  


Gabriel scoffed. “Man, I’m just the messenger. You’re the one who said it.”  


“ _Gabriel._ You are not telling your mother that I called her a poor chef!”  


“Uhhhh, I wasn’t. But _now_ I totally am.”  


Castiel breathed deeply, reaching into his backpack to pull out the folder with his sheet music. As he laid it out on the stand over the grand piano in the center of the classroom, he listened to Gabriel’s ramblings about the frantic innerworkings of the Shurley household. It was business as usual, even as Moseley convened the class and silenced everybody with a perfectly tuned hum. 

  


After school, the weekly music honor society convened. Gabriel, the vice president, was pulled into his many duties – namely declaring it a state of emergency that there weren’t enough paper napkins to accommodate the many soccer moms attending the student-run fair tomorrow night. Castiel, on the other hand, was largely left on his own, save for a few polite hellos to fellow musicians and artists.  


As soon as they were on the bus, Gabriel seemed expectant that Castiel would spill the beans on what was bugging him so much – only to be shot down and forced to wait. Gabriel, hardly a patient soul, bemoaned of the many misgivings of having a best friend with a ‘stick up his ass.’  


The deboarded their bus, watching the yellow vehicle take off down the road. Immediately after it was out of sight, Gabriel demanded, “Are you ever gonna tell me what happened, or am I going to have to bribe you with – like – burgers, or something?”  


“Well,” said Castiel, not at all eager to discuss it, “I was _going_ to tell you, but now you _have to_ feed me.”  


“Oh, my God. You’re not my friend, you’re a cat.”  


“It’s an existence that is known for its splendor and lazy afternoons. I gladly accept.”  


Gabriel let out what could only be described as the most frustrated (and manly) squeak of all time. With a smiling Castiel on his tail, Gabriel stomped his way to his house, where Castiel followed him leisurely. 

As they shut the door behind them, they dropped their backpacks in the usual spot, with Gabriel heading towards the fridge and Castiel flopping onto the couch.  


“Hey, Mittens!” called Gabriel from the kitchen. “Did you want fries?”  


“If I was a cat, my name would be much more creative than _Mittens._ ”  


“As if you would have a say in it,” snapped Gabriel, “you’d be a _cat._ Now – fries?”  


“Potato?”  


“Aren’t they all?”  


“No, I mean – _sweet_ potato fries.”  


“Ew, no.” Within the next five minutes, after a lot of bickering, Gabriel placed both of their fries in the oven. As they waited, Gabriel finally sat on the sofa across from Castiel at the couch and – quite pointedly – asked, “So, are you gonna tell me what’s been bugging you?”  


“Oh. That.”  


“Yeah, ‘ _oh, that._ ’”  


Castiel grimaced, squirming into an upright position. He fiddled with nothing in his hands, abjectly trying to distract himself from the unavoidable. “I’m – Dean Winchester talked to me today.”  


Gabriel sat up. “Are you kidding me?” he demanded. “That’s what this is? God, hasn’t he done enough, scarring you for life? He can’t fuck off to his own corner of the Universe?”  


“He’s – He didn’t really say anything mean. He was trying to apologize to me, actually, for being so – aggressive.”  


“Everybody in our school probably thinks you’re a homophobe now,” said Gabriel shortly. “Which is his fault. He should apologize for _that._ ”  


“Right, well – He said that he was sorry, and I sort of had the impression that he was only saying sorry because his friends wanted him to after Meg – Meg t-told him.”  


“She told him you’re not a twat?”  


“Gabe,” said Castiel tiredly, “she told him that I’m gay. Not only that, but – Dean said it as if multiple people knew about it now, as if – God knows how many people are going to – just – “  


“Meg outed you to _Dean Winchester?_ ” parroted Gabriel. “That’s what this is about?”  


“Yes!” cried Castiel hysterically. “A – a month and a half ago, only two people in the world knew this about me, including myself! You were the only person! But – you know, then _Meg_ comes along. She was the first person who’s ever tried to go on a date with me, and – I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so he I told her. Which was a _horrible idea._ I thought we were friends, but sh – !”  


Gabriel flailed slightly as he got up from his seat. “No,” he said, “I don’t think Meg was being a demon, telling them.”  


“How could you say that?” asked Castiel. “What if – ?”  


“They are not going to tell anybody!” stressed Gabriel. “And you know how I know that?”  


“ _No._ ”  


“Because this whole mess started, Cassy, when you walked into the room where Charlie Bradbury was making out with her girlfriend. _Charlie_ , the girl who organized our school’s LGBT-club, or whatever. She’s not going to have any part of ruining your life. She’s too much of a Good Samaritan.”  


“But Dean – !”  


“ – is _basically_ her second-in-command,” pointed out Gabriel. “He might be an asshat, but he’s not going to tell anybody. You can relax.”  


“But what if _other people_ know?” demanded Castiel. “What if – what if somebody heard them, or – or was there? They’re the kind of people who are _comfortable_ about this sort of thing, as if it’s not important! It _is_ important, to me! She had no right to just tell them! I barely even know them!”  


“I hear you, man,” agreed Gabriel. He sighed, lolling his head around in a circle before nodding decisively. “Okay, you know what? You’re right. It’s not Meg’s business whether or not Dean Winchester or Charlie Bradbury like you. It wasn’t right. Next time you see her, tell her not to do it again. But – there’s no point dwelling on the Dean and Charlie thing, _really,_ Cassy. I promise, they’re not going to expose you for the flamboyant homosexual that you are.”  


“I – Shut up,” said Castiel, although his words had absolutely no bite to them. He worried his lip between his teeth, wondering what on earth he was supposed to be saying to Meg. He didn’t want to yell at her – he _hated_ confrontation – but he was angry.  


The next time he saw Meg, it was in Starbucks. Castiel’s sister went off to the bathroom, while he found Meg sitting at a table. He hurried up to her, fidgeting, and quietly asked if he could talk to her – which she obliged.  


“Y’all right, Clarence?” she asked, her eyes twinkling with untold mischief. She always seemed to be under the impression that her odd nickname for him for somehow funny. She refused to let up with it, even when Castiel fruitlessly told her that he did not know who Clarence was. “You look kinda spooked.”  


“O-okay,” he stuttered, his previously handled anxiety returning full-force and coming at him like a brick wall. “I need to talk to you.”  


“Uhh. You are. Talking to me, that is.”  


“Right. It’s – it’s important.”  


“You know,” said Meg, smiling condescendingly, “for such a smart boy, you sure are one special snowflake, Castiel.”  


“Meg, I’m _serious,_ ” he hissed. “You can’t just go around telling people – what I told you.”  


“What are you talking about?” she asked, although the sudden worry in her eyes told him that she had the smallest of inklings as to what he was talking about.  


Reiterating, Castiel said, “You told Dean Winchester. Who else did you tell?”  


“Oh. Uh – well, it was mostly directed at Dean, but Charlie was there, too. Bradbury. You know – the one who does cosplay and stuff?”  


“Yes,” said Castiel, “I know her. And I’m telling you that you should not have told them. It wasn’t your business to do that.”  


“Wasn’t my – Okay, no,” said Meg, shaking her head. “I didn’t just announce it for, like, LOL’s. Dean thinks of Charlie like she’s his little sister, Castiel.”  


“So?”  


“ _So,_ ” said Meg, “he was probably going to punch you in the face, the next time he saw you!”  


“That’s – that’s not your decision to make!” insisted Castiel. “I can handle myself, and I like the very selective amount of people that I tell this – _thing_ – to.”  


Meg paused, processing this. Then, as Castiel slowly began to relax, she laughed in sheer absurdity. “This is nuts. You’d rather get into a fight with Dean Winchester – one you would _definitely_ lose – over telling _two people_ that you’re gay?”  


“Well,” said Castiel sharply, “ _I_ didn’t get that decision, because you didn’t tell me first, or ask!”  


“You are – Okay, I was wrong.”  


“Wrong about what?”  


“There’s a difference,” said Meg, crossing her arms. She looked him over with haughty disdain – almost pitying. “I mean, you’re certainly not a bigot. But you are _totally_ homophobic.”  


“I – That’s not true.”  


“You’re not just in the closet – you _prefer_ the closet. It doesn’t just make you uncomfortable. You’re actually scared of it. It’s _sad._ I’m done having you blame me for that. Your parents fucking you up is not my fault.”  


“That’s not _fair_ ,” he protested, but she wasn’t necessarily the type of person to listen once she made up her mind. She turned and left him there, stammering by his lonesome in the corner, to wait for his sister to return from the bathroom. 

  


For a day and a half, Castiel lured himself into a false sense of security by neglecting to mention or think of Dean Winchester or Charlie Bradbury or Meg Masters at all for the rest of the weekend. Instead, he went on with his life; he attended the bake sale Gabriel was helping out with. While he didn’t make the food, Castiel was one of the volunteers who organized the event, which seemed appreciated by everyone who thanked him.  


By Monday, he almost tricked himself into forgetting about the whole thing. Almost.  


“Yo, Cas,” a familiarly unwelcome voice called to him during homeroom. Castiel pointedly ignored it, as well as the trembling of his hands as Dean stubbornly inserted himself into Castiel’s field of vision, taking a seat in front of him instead of his usual corner of the room. “Hey. I was talking to you.”  


“Yes,” said Castiel, “I heard you.”  


It looked as if it physically pained Dean not to make some sarcastic or rude response – but he restrained himself and forced a smile. “Right,” he said. “Well, I’m your partner today. Okay?”  


“We don’t need partners.”  


“Yes, we do. We’re working on a poem.”  


“Oh.” Castiel glanced up at the board, where there were vague directions written in unintelligible script by their AP-Lit teacher. He glanced back at Dean, who was already settling himself in and taking his books out of his bags. “Um. No, thanks.”  


“I wasn’t asking.”  


“I – That’s the kind of thing you ask a person.”  


“Well, I wasn’t.”  


“Dean,” said Castiel, “I don’t want to be your partner.”  


Dean nodded. “I had a feeling,” he said carefully. “But – you know, I kind of wanted to talk to you about something, and – honestly, this whole bound-together-by-an-assignment thing? Seems like the perfect opportunity to force you to sit here and listen to me talk about what you seem to really not want to talk to me about.”  


“You love the sound of your own voice,” responded Castiel bluntly.  


“That I most certainly do. It’s a talent, really.” While Castiel opened his textbook and started flipping to the designated page, Dean faced Castiel and teetered from side to side, considering. “So – you’re friends with Meg, right?”  


“That’s none of your business.”  


“What,” said Dean, “it’s a secret all of the sudden? The other day she dragged you to a party and you seemed happy enough in public with her.”  


“She did not ‘drag’ me.”  


“You seemed pretty dragged,” admitted Dean. “I’ve known you for a long time, and you’ve never wanted to go to a party before.”  


“You and I have spoken probably a handful of times in the past ten years,” said Castiel shortly. “You do not ‘know me.’”  


“Teenage angst, much?”  


“Excuse me?”  


“It was a joke.” Dean went quiet for a few moments, looking at the page in their textbook with the assigned poem – only to grumble in annoyance a moment later. “I fucking hate poetry.”  


“Well, I imagine it’s not too fond of you, either.”  


“Nah, like – I understand wanting to use symbolism and everything. Like, I read books. I _like_ reading. But half the time, poetry is just people talking for the sake of talking. Now, _they_ like the sound of their own voice.”  


“Maybe you should be a poet.”  


Dean rolled his eyes and pointedly ignored that. “Let’s just get this over with,” he said, taking a look at the questions at the end of the page. He remained blissfully silent until they finished the third out of six questions. “Hey, ah – Cas?”  


“What?” asked Castiel impatiently.  


“I was – Look, I’m not. Um. Listen, ah – _buddy,_ I’m – I want to tell you, as noninvasive as possible, that what Meg told us is going to have absolutely no bearing on your life.”  


Castiel’s pen halted in its hurried scribbling. He didn’t look up from his paper, instead shuffling uncomfortably in his seat. “Okay,” he said flatly, trying not to sound too freaked out, which –  


“You look really freaked out,” said Dean, his eyes widening. “I – Dude, I _promise_. Okay? I’m sorry, I – I guess your reaction to the whole thing makes sense now.”  


“To – the ‘whole thing?’”  


“Charlie and Gil,” said Dean. “You found them, and it made you all – uncomfortable.”  


“I was _not_ uncomfortable!”  


“Cas,” said Dean, “it’s okay. I’m – I’m sorry I brought it up. I just wanted you to know that, is all.”  


“Well, great,” said Castiel sharply, “I know now.”  


They continued with their work in, yet again, wonderful silence. Yet again, Dean broke it.  


“Can I – Can I ask you a personal question?” asked Dean. “And you have every right not to answer it if you don’t want to?”  


Castiel’s grip on his writing utensil tightened. “ _Yes_ ,” he hissed, “what is it, Dean?”  


There was an awkward pause – and then Dean quietly asked, “How come you don’t want anybody to know about it?”  


Castiel wasn’t about to go into an in-depth explanation. “I have yet to discuss it with my parents,” he told Dean curtly.  


“Oh.” Dean fiddled with his pen nervously. Castiel had never seen Dean nervous before. “Do – do you think they’ll get mad? If – I mean – ?”  


“I have yet to discuss it with my parents,” reiterated Castiel.  


Dean’s mouth opened and closed several times. Then, nodding, Dean sighed. “Right. Sorry. Hey, um – so, do – do you think this poem is more about – uh – flowers or death? I can never tell with Dickinson.” 

  


It was strange.  


Castiel went about his usual routine, keeping to the same circles as he always did. But, occasionally, Charlie Bradbury would pop out of nowhere. Undoubtedly, Dean told her everything – so he didn’t feel at all remorseful by shooting down every possible attempt at making nice. Still, she consistently tried to make nice. She even offered him a peppermint once.  


Dean was – also strange. After their poem assignment, he sat in that same seat in front of Castiel the next day. And the next day. And the day after that – and the day after that. In AP-Chem, Dean ambled over to Castiel and seemed fully expectant that they would be in lab group together.  


What was most fascinating about the ordeal was the lack of confrontation. Apart from that one poetry assignment, Dean never spoke about Castiel’s sexuality – _ever._ He never asked, he never made jokes, and he never mentioned it. Charlie seemed to entirely gloss over it, in fact – she didn’t say anything to him about it once.  


By the fourth week of Dean and Charlie treating him with unprecedented kindness, he was beyond disturbed. He was the first one to break, during chem, no less. “Why are you talking to me?” he demanded, while the rest of their class startled shuffling around for the beginning of a lab.  


Dean looked puzzled for all but a moment, until he seemed to collect him. Glancing around them, he shifted in his seat awkwardly. “Uh – I dunno,” he said, shrugging vaguely. “Do I need a reason?”  


“Yes,” insisted Castiel, “because I know that you must have one.”  


There was a brief pause. Dean appeared to consider his options, finally relenting. “I just – It seemed like we had shit in common, I guess. Plus, Charlie got worried, after she found out…”  


“Found that out that I’m gay and in the closet?” grumbled Castiel. “So – what, I’m your project, now?”  


“What? Fuck, _no,_ Cas – Jesus – I told her you were clearly freaked out, and you definitely don’t trust your own parents!”  


“I don’t _not_ trust my parents!” Castiel snapped. “It’s not your business to decide whether or not I don’t trust my parents!”  


Dean’s brow was furrowed, looking quite wounded. “Cas, I _get it._ ”  


“No,” said Castiel, “you _don’t._ ” He was tired – tired of Dean and Charlie trying to assert themselves into his life, just because they thought that something Castiel wasn’t quite happy about with himself was something they had ‘in common.’ It was infuriating. “It’s easy for you!”  


Dean scoffed. “Man, it is _so_ not easy. It’s not easy for anybody, no matter how secure you feel about yourself. There’s always going to be some thought in your head, some ‘what if,’ making you scared out of your mind. _Everybody_ gets that. The difference is that, for some people, that voice is actually justified – and the voice is trying to warn you about – !”  


“In theory,” interrupted Castiel, “I understand. But it is _not_ the same!”  


“What do you mean?”  


“My parents have never really expressed an – _opinion_ on homosexuality before. It just – It hasn’t come up! Sixteen years, and I don’t know they’ll feal, and – _that_ is why I am so nervous.”  


“I understand,” said Dean, which only served to piss of Castiel even more.  


“Oh, my dear _Lord_ ,” said Castiel, “stop _validating me_ and just – tell me why you keep talking to me! Because I am at a loss! It’s either pity or it’s worry, and I need neither from you!”  


“I don’t pity you!” cried Dean. Then, with a rather bitter laugh, he shook his head. “God, and I thought I had a shitty self-esteem!”  


“What are – ?”  


“You’re not a bad guy!” barked Dean. “Nice, even! Okay, so – maybe I started talking to you out of a – a moral obligation, out of Charlie telling me that I should, but – but you’re actually pretty cool, okay?” At Castiel’s mystified silence, Dean shrugged limply. “And you’re funny, too, which I never really bothered to notice about you until now.”  


The innerworkings of Castiel’s brain was _blaring._ “I’m – I’m sorry,” said Castiel, flabbergasted. “Did you just call me ‘funny?’”  


“Yeah,” said Dean, as if it was a perfectly normal thing to think.  


“ _Me?_ You are telling _me_ that you think I’m funny?” reiterated Castiel. Upon seeing Dean nod his head in the most puzzled manner, Castiel laughed. “Well, now I _know_ you just pity me.”  


“Oh, my God,” said Dean, “you are _impossible!_ ”  


“Nobody thinks I’m funny!” insisted Castiel, truthful enough. “Sixteen years, Dean, and not a single person has ever said to me that I am funny. I am an inherently not-funny person. My mother and I have that in common, we – we just don’t – _have_ that. The only person who ever calls my mother funny is my father, and I’m fairly certain that he does it out of some sort of marital obligation.”  


Dean scoffed, shaking his head and giving Castiel a look of appraisal. “Dude, seriously?” he asked. “You are fucking _hilarious._ ” Dean was grinning at him, which only seemed to brighten further at the look of utter puzzlement on Castiel’s face. “Like – dude, I watched you tap your pen yesterday in Lit for, like, the entire period, and then you suddenly dropped it, and – and instead of immediately getting up, you looked _directly at me_ and said you ‘hate pens.’”  


“I – that’s not funny,” insisted Castiel desperately, grasping at the last of what he had always been so sure of. “That’s just – me being – _me._ ”  


“It was the way you said it,” said Dean, his voice surprisingly genuine. “You really didn’t notice me laughing?”  


“I kind of assumed you were laughing at me for being a spaz.”  


Dean frowned suddenly. “Hey,” he muttered, “no, okay? I ain’t gonna laugh at you, ever. You’re cool, Cas.” Then, after a beat, he added, “I mean, once you get past the monotone sarcasm, you’re – you’re really a nice guy.”  


Castiel was quite used to people disliking him for his attitude. They called him ‘blunt’ or ‘abrasive,’ told him that he was disrespectful on principle, and deemed him as one of the ‘bitter and rude’ people without much to go on. It was rare that someone ever said such nice things to him without an outside help – a friend like Gabriel, perhaps – urging them to see Castiel’s kinder side.  


“I’m – nice?” he echoed, voice quiet. There was a lack of mockery in Dean’s eyes. Instead, Castiel found sincerity, which – was quite nice of him. He felt his resolve against Dean Winchester ebb, replaced by something menially friend-like.  


“Yeah,” said Dean, leaning back and forth carefully. “So – you think we can be, like, friends now? Or is – I mean, you don’t – “  


“Sure,” said Castiel, perhaps a bit too quickly. “Friends. Why not?” 

  


While things with Dean became more amiable than ever before, Castiel allowed himself to assume that the worst was over. It appeared – truly – that whatever secret Dean or Charlie may have learned, it might as well have been put inside a vault. Neither were willing to spill any secret of his, so long as he asked them not to tell.  


Life continued, as it tends to even when something world-ending happens. Before Castiel knew it, his little sister’s birthday was up in the air, just a few days away, and he was involved in numerous church activities for that month. The combination of two, of course, led to the inevitable –  


“She’s evil,” said Castiel, which he probably should not have proclaimed in church, right in front of the pastor. But Pastor Chuck was a laidback guy, who laughed quietly at Castiel’s harsh words.  


“I don’t think I would go that far,” said the pastor. Behind them, the annual luncheon burgeoned as more residents took up space in the building. Castiel had been sitting at the corner table by himself, waiting for Gabriel to show up, when the pastor found him and asked how he felt about his little sister turning eight years old.  


“I would,” replied Castiel, trying to convey just how honest he was being. Hannah and Anna were the little sisters from hell – in childhood, he was always the one they ganged up on, for multiple reasons. 

For one, he was the oldest, with the largest age gap; he was six and eight years older than them. It was a no-brainer that there would be some differences between himself and the other two. The second reason why he was often targeted was, perhaps, the most obvious: he was their _brother,_ while they were both sisters. It created something of a competition.  


“Yes,” said the pastor, his eyes wandering the room. “I, myself, remember the many woes of having a sister who didn’t quite understand me.”  


Castiel had heard only a few things about Pastor Chuck’s sister before. It was rare that Chuck mentioned her – as far as Gabriel had ever told him, she was the opposite of her younger brother. According to Gabriel, she dismissed Chuck as arrogant and self-gratifying at a young age, leading to a rather disjointed family tree.  


Castiel didn’t think his relationship with his sisters was that bad. As irritating as Hannah and Anna were, they were still his sisters. Anna was a boy-crazy ten-year-old who liked to talk and talk and talk and _keep talking_ , and Hannah was a shy little girl who illustrated her own Christmas cards on blank paper for everybody in the family.  


“Regardless,” the pastor said, smiling at Castiel kindly, “you should be thankful. Your family loves you very much, ‘evil’ as they may be. I know family can be difficult, but – try to enjoy the party, will you, Castiel?”  


“Of course,” said Castiel, since that was what he was supposed to say. As Chuck wandered over to the table with the food, presumably to either ask if anybody needed help or to ask if he could have a second helping, Castiel once again sat by his lonesome, waiting for Gabriel to tear himself from the many churchgoers who were asking favors of him.  


It wasn’t until much later in the evening that Castiel resigned himself to the fact that Gabriel wouldn’t make it until the night was over. He huffed, trying to look happy about something, when his little sister plopped beside him.  


She was wearing a black-and-gold dress, tonight, with her red hair done up in a bun. In a weird way, Castiel could see a bit of their mother in her – especially with the hair. “Hiya,” his sister said, picking up a cupcake from the tray in front of them. She dropped her little dessert onto the plastic tablecloth the church always used for large gatherings. “What’s eating you?”  


“I’m fine,” said Castiel, going back to poking at the tablecloth with his fingernail.  


“You look bored,” said Anna. “Want to play a game?”  


“Um. What game?”  


“I dunno,” she said tiredly. “Do I have to think of _everything?_ ”  


Castiel rolled his eyes. “Well, thank you,” he said, “but I’m alright. You don’t have to Plague yourself on my behalf.”  


“Hmm. Suit yourself, Cassy.” She licked a dollop of buttercream frosting off of the top of her cupcake, her eyes filled with glee. “Ohmygosh,” she said, “these are _amazing._ ”  


Castiel hummed in resolved agreement. “I will tell Gabriel you think so, the next time I see him.”  


“ _Gabe_ made these?”  


“Yes. He also made the crumcake, I think.”  


“The coffee cake?”  


“Ah – yes, that.”  


“Oh, my God,” said Anna, “he is going to be – like – the _coolest_ person ever. Imagine if he becomes, like, a person on TV who – like – talks about stuff on the Food Network, and then he goes on, like, interviews and stuff, and he gets famous?”  


Castiel blinked at her several times – laughing awkwardly. “Um,” he said, “I think Gabriel just wants to own a bakery, Anna.”  


“He could do so much better, though!” she said. “He could – like – make the _best cakes._ ”  


She looked distinctly smitten, smiling at her cupcake as if it was Gabriel and the cupcake (or Gabriel?) had just made a marriage proposal.  


“Please,” begged Castiel, “stop.”  


“Wh – I didn’t do anything!” cried Anna, glaring at him as if he was somehow offending her honor. “You are such a jerk, Castiel! Just because you don’t encourage your best friend to – to, you know, ‘reach for the stars,’ or – “  


“Anna, Gabriel doesn’t need anybody to tell him to ‘reach for the stars,’” pointed out Castiel. “He’s already planning on going to the Sun, so – no encouragement needed from me, okay? Or you. You’re just being creepy now.”  


“I am not creepy!” she barked, this time elbowing him as hard as she could.  


Just as soon as Castiel was tempted to push her off her dumb chair, there was a snort behind them as none other than Gabriel Shurley took a seat next to Castiel. “Did I just walk into World War Three?” asked Gabriel, feigning caution.  


Anna’s ensuing giggle made Castiel want to vomit. “Oh, great,” said Castiel, voice dripping with sarcasm, “you’re finally here.”  


“Yeah, um – sorry about that,” said Gabriel, wincing. “It’s just – when we were younger, I had, like, _three_ older brothers who handled this whole – chaos thing. Back then, _I_ was the chaos, but – now I’m the only one left in the nest, so – until college, I’m everybody’s doormat.”  


“You don’t like being the pastor’s son?” asked Anna curiously, licking a bit of chocolate cake from the corner of her mouth. She still had some chocolate stained on her mouth when she finished, Castiel noticed victoriously.  


“Oh, I _love_ it,” joked Gabriel cheerfully. “It’s almost as fun as a visit to the dentist with no Novocain.”  


While Anna confusedly tried to puzzle out what he meant by that, Castiel winced sympathetically. “You’re not allowed to leave at all?” he asked, quietly mourning their plans to leave the party early.  


“Unfortunately,” started Gabriel, only to be interrupted by a petite white-haired woman parading up the group, looking far too pleased.  


“Little Gabriel Shurley!” she cooed. “Ooooh, I remember when you were _this tall!_ What a fine young man you’ve grown into!”  


Gabriel laughed. “It’s lovely to see you again,” he told her politely. “Hey, have you talked to my mom? I think she was – “  


“Oh, where is Rebecca?” asked the woman. “Help me find her, honey?”  


“Uh – sure, no problem!” said Gabriel, trying for some enthusiasm. As he stood from the table, he, too, looked quite heartbroken about the ruined escape plan. “Ah, later, Cassy.”  


“Bye,” said Castiel, feeling sufficiently abandoned.  


“Bye, Gabriel!” cried Anna. “I love your cupcakes!”  


“Oh, thanks, kiddo,” said Gabriel. Anna’s words brought him a smile in the very least as he went off with the old woman.  


Castiel didn’t miss the falter in Anna’s smile. He felt himself smiling before he could think better of it, something Anna noticed. She promptly elbowed him, harder this time. “ _Ow!_ ” he growled. While she rolled her eyes, he cheerfully added, “Kiddo.”  


The utter fury on his sister’s face was quite wonderful. “You,” she growled, “are _mean,_ Castiel. And I am not a kid!”  


“Tell that to your One True Love.”  


Anna huffed. “I never said that he was my ‘One True Love,’” she snapped. “And – What do you have to be so self-righteous about? I’m _ten_ and I’ve had more relationships than you! How many girls are lining themselves up for you?”  


Castiel faltered – only slightly, and not for the reason Anna seemed to believe. “Unlike you, I don’t measure my self-worth based on the number of people who want to date me.”  


“Hopefully not,” said Anna sharply. “Because then it would be _quite low._ ”  


Without sparing her older brother another glance, she pushed out her clunky plastic chair from the fold-out table. Leaving the remains of her cupcake wrappings in her wake, she stomped off, presumably to find someone else who wouldn’t stand for such an injustice.

  


“Alright,” said Dean, dropping his backpack next to his desk with a loud _thud._ He had arrived in class earlier than usual – it was typical that he would hang out in the hallway with Charlie or some of his other friends. “I have a proposition.”  


Castiel still felt weary calling Dean a ‘friend.’ For this reason, he proceeded with caution. “Um…,” he mumbled, glancing around the room awkwardly. “I – I don’t know to reply, until you’ve made the proposition.”  


“I – Fair enough,” admitted Dean. “The proposition isn’t a big deal, or anything. More like an olive branch.”  


“I don’t know what that means.”  


Sighing, Dean turned around in his seat so that he was facing Castiel entirely. “So – We always play Dungeons and Dragons on weekends at Ash’s place, but Ash moved away not too long ago, and – “  


“I’m sorry,” interrupted Castiel, “did you just say _Dungeons and Dragons?_ ”  


“Yeah, I – Oh, my God,” said Dean, “ _fuck off._ ”  


“I – I didn’t say anything!”  


“You are _laughing at me!_ ” snapped Dean. While Castiel did, in fact, let out the tiniest snort, Dean picked up the closest object – his paperback copy of Slaughterhouse-Five – and smacked Castiel upside the head with it. “As I was saying before I was _rudely interrupted_ – “  


“Dungeons and Dragons,” muttered Castiel to himself, once more, with feeling.  


“ – Ash moved really far away, and he still comes by a lot, but he gave us permission to start a new party at a new place. He’ll still be participating via Skype, but – point is, we’re reinventing the storyline, and Charlie is taking over as Dungeon Master.”  


“I don’t really know what any of that means, Dean.”  


“Basically,” said Dean, flailing slightly as he explained, “it’s – like – we all staged a coup and there’s new leadership. Peacefully, though.”  


“Ah. I see.”  


“Yeah, so – I’m kind of asking if you’d want to hang out,” said Dean. “We make a whole night of it, you know? Some of us even sleep over at the Dungeon Master’s house. We eat junk food, no parents interrupt, and it’s fun.”  


Castiel considered this. “I am – tempted. But I don’t know how to play Dungeons and Dragons. I – I’ll be very bad at it.”  


“You’re not gonna be our only inductee,” Dean reassured him. “See, the reason why Ash let us change the party is because my little brother Sammy and his friend Kevin are joining us. I figured, since we’re basically going on a clean slate already, I’d ask you if you’d come.”  


“Oh. I won’t be the only person who doesn’t understand what’s happening?”  


“Well – Sammy’s heard me ramble about my nerdy shit for years,” admitted Dean, “but Kevin? Yeah, he’s going Ivy League, but he’s his own brand of clueless. He’ll be just as lost as you are.”  


“Huh.”  


Dean brightened suddenly, a thought occurring to him. “Hey, if it makes you feel better, you could bring a friend along!”  


Castiel’s mind immediately jumped to Gabriel. Somehow, it was laughable – he couldn’t imagine his theater-obsessed, pastry-loving best friend sitting patiently during a game of Dungeons and Dragons. “I don’t – I really don’t if, um – if Dungeons and Dragons is my, er, _scene,_ so to speak.”  


“Yeah,” said Dean, “I know, it’s just – I mean, a lot of my friends are gonna be there.”  


“I – Okay?”  


“Okay,” said Dean, rolling his eyes, “and a lot of them have some real shit in common with us.” At Castiel’s clear and sudden discomfort, Dean quickly shook his head. “I didn’t tell them, and I am not going to, okay? That’s your choice, and I respect that. Just – I figure that, if you _do_ want to come and meet people who you can trust, then – God forbid, you might even make a friend!”  


Absorbing this, Castiel watched Dean carefully. In all of the years they knew each other, he had written him off – time and time again, Dean Winchester was ‘that kid’ about something ridiculous. Dean was _that kid_ who got into a fist fight with Alastair in the fifth grade. Dean was the random, unimportant person who told a teacher to ‘bite him,’ earning him a week-long detention. Dean was just some kid, who ignored Castiel entirely – and Castiel ignored him right back.  


It was funny, really – how quickly things might change. One moment, Castiel couldn’t stand the thought of Dean Winchester. Now, he felt personally thankful for the many needlessly kind gestures. He’d never thought Dean capable of being selfless before.  


“Cas?” questioned Dean, after a metered silence. “Buddy, you – you don’t have to if you don’t want to. Really.”  


“No,” said Castiel, his voice unusually quiet as he ducked his head and smiled. “It sounds like a lovely evening. I would be delighted to attend.”  


“O-oh.” Dean laughed, nodding. “Sweet, I – That’s awesome! _Crap_ , I can’t believe you actually are gonna go! I’m – dude, I’m _excited!_ ”  


“Me too,” agreed Castiel happily. As Dean bounced along, looking happier than ever before, Castiel felt rather pleased to have been the person to bring such a smile on his face. “Just give me the time and place, and I’m there.”  


“Dude, it’s gonna be _awesome._ ” 

  


“Why am I doing this?” asked Gabriel, burying his face in his hands tiredly.  


“Because – I’m basically your brother, and it’s a nice thing?”  


“No,” said Gabriel, “I mean, why are _we_ doing this? We don’t know these people. Cassy, you’re not exactly Sally Social – you’re a complete introvert, and there’s no shame in admitting it.”  


As they walked down the block towards Charlie Bradbury’s house, Castiel shrugged limply. “I don’t deny that I have a… perpetual difficulty in the area of making friends. I just – I figured it was nice for Dean to have asked!”  


Gabriel whined babyishly to his left. “But I’m _tired,_ ” he complained. “And I want to eat!”  


“Eat there.”  


“There’ll be food?”  


“Dean said they usually have a lot of unhealthy foods. I – I suppose there won’t be real food, actually.” Pausing in his tracks, Castiel glanced behind them. “Perhaps we could go home, eat quickly, and th – ?”  


Gabriel gasped. “Bro, you think they’ll have licorice?”  


“ _… What?_ ”  


“I am so in the mood for Red Vines.”  


“Gabriel,” scolded Castiel, “you cannot eat _licorice_ for dinner!”  


“ _Pfft_ , says the guy who ate three bags of marshmallows in one sitting!”  


“I was _twelve_ and you _dared me to!_ ” cried Castiel. “We were in Youth Group and the adults were gone and everyone was staring at me! That was your fault!”  


“Semantics!”  


As they made their down farther down the street, Castiel pulled on the fabric of Gabriel’s sweater, tugging him around another corner. While Castiel shoved his hands into the pocket of his jacket, shielding himself from the cold, Gabriel huffed.  


“What now?” asked Castiel grudgingly.  


“I’m cold.”  


“You’re whining, now be quiet.”  


“Gee, you’d make a great parent.”  


Castiel resisted the urge to turn and start yelling. “Great,” he said sharply. “I’m glad you think so.”  


“No, really. You tell me I can’t eat licorice _and_ I have to shut up because my existence is pissing you off?” Feigning applause, Gabriel cheered. “ _Hells yeah,_ you’d make a great dad!”  


“You can tell my hypothetical, nonexistent children all about it when they’re never born, seeing that I’m not very likely to reproduce, thanks.”  


At the obvious bitterness in Castiel’s voice, Gabriel hesitated. “I – I didn’t mean – “  


“I know. It’s fine.”  


“But I was just – ,”  


“I’m sorry,” apologized Castiel quickly, “that wasn’t fair of me. You were being silly.”  


Together, they sighed loudly and continued. It began to rain just a few minutes into their silence, but luckily enough they arrived at their destination shortly.  


“You sure this is the house?” asked Gabriel.  


Nodding, Castiel said, “This is the address he gave me.”  


“Yeah,” said Gabriel, “but are you _sure?_ ”  


“The only thing I’m sure of,” replied Castiel, “is that you are going to drive me to an early grave.”  


Before Gabriel could make a witty retort, the door opened before either had the chance to knock or ring the doorbell. Standing the doorway was a petite, curly-haired blonde girl with olive skin. Her face was covered in glitter, a unicorn headband planted firmly on her head. Her nails were pink, and her dress was purple. Castiel vaguely recognized her as Charlie’s girlfriend – one of the girls he had reacted poorly to just a few weeks earlier.  


“Oh,” the tiny girl said, looking between Castiel and Gabriel nervously. “H-hi. Um – Cas, right?”  


“Hello,” he answered politely. He shifted awkwardly, Gabriel following suit. “Yes, that’s – that’s me. Er – ‘Cas.’”  


“Dean and Charlie told me about you,” she said – which almost gave Castiel a slight heart attack ( _almost_ ). “Come on in.” As they stepped through the threshold, she led them into a large living room area where there was a great number of people sitting on the two couches or lying vertically on the ground below.  


“Guys!” said Charlie’s girlfriend, smiling kindly. “Cas is here, with – friend!”  


Behind him, Castiel vaguely overheard Gabriel squawk indignantly (“What the fuck, I am not your sidekick!”). His reaction was overshadowed, though, by the ensuing cheer of the entire group seated.  


“Ayyyyyeeeeee!” called Dean and Charlie, while the rest of their friends chorused a welcome.  


Charlie was the first person to hop out of her seat to meet her girlfriend. Wrapping an arm around her, Charlie turned to Castiel and Gabriel with a bright smile. “Alright, so – since I’m not sure how familiar you guys are with the whole gang – “  


In the kitchen, somebody wolf-whistled and there was the sound of a bag popping, followed by screams of protest and utter annoyance.  


“ – this is Benny, Jo, and Vic – Dean, of course, you already know – the dopey kid next to him is none other than Sammy Winchester; the other kid is Kevin Tran, he’s in advanced placement – _I’m_ Charlie, otherwise known as the Queen of Dungeons and Dragons – ,”  


“Nobody calls you that, ever.”  


“ – and Benny is currently trying to pull up a videochat with Ash, our former fearless leader.”  


While Dean wiggled himself up from the couch, heading his way towards them, Jo gasped audibly. “ _Charlie,_ ” she said, “aren’t you forgetting a very important person to this gathering? Dare I say, the most important?”  


“What’re y – ?”  


“The girlfriend that our Queen is neglecting,” said Jo, “is Gilda, by the way. She’s a fucking princess. Touch her and we castrate you.”  


“Oh, my _God,_ Jo! I told you already, they’re not – Oh, my _God!_ ” barked Dean hysterically, finally reaching the pair who floundered about awkwardly. “Christ, I’m sorry. You’ve been here for less than two minutes and they’re already being assholes.”  


“Hey, nobody was being an asshole!” insisted Vic. “It’s just gospel. Gilda is precious to us all.”  


“Aww, guys,” said Gilda, her cheeks reddening while the entire group hummed in agreement. “That’s so sweet!”  


Dean looked between Castiel and Gabriel. “Uh – so, you guys wanna take off your coats, mayb – ?”  


“Ooooohhhh,” said Jo excitedly, “look who’s being a _gentleman_ all of the sudden!”  


“Jo, I swear to God – “  


“No, no,” she said, “I _see you,_ Winchester. ‘Don’t be an asshole’ this, ‘May I take your coat’ that. I gotcha, man. I _gotcha._ ”  


“It’s probably best that we take it off,” admitted Gabriel, the first to speak while Dean tried threatening Jo to no avail. “Especially Cassy.”  


Castiel opened his mouth to reply, only to pause and looked back at Gabriel, puzzled. “Wait, what does that mean?”  


“That coat is horrible.”  


“I – What’s wrong with my coat?” asked Castiel. He looked down at himself in his long, tan trench coat. It was a nice enough jacket, and it always kept him warm. Plus, Illinois was windy and rainy sometimes – and it did well as a windbreaker.  


Sighing, Gabriel muttered, “You look like you’re about to offer candy to underage children.”  


“There is nothing wrong with how I dress!”  


“You look like a homeless person!”  


“Thank you, _Mom._ ”  


Gabriel let out the faintest squeak. He interrupted himself, letting it die promptly as he realized their audience’s clear amusement with their banter. “I was just _saying_ …”  


Dean took their coats from them in an incredibly, painstakingly awkward ordeal. Castiel almost walked into Dean twice while he walked past him, until Charlie took pity and pulled at Dean’s shoulder until Castiel could get out the way. Dean appeared sufficiently embarrassed by the time he came back, offering a seat to Castiel and Gabriel.  


“So,” said Gabriel, as he and Castiel sat on the couch with everybody. “What’re we doing?”  


“We’re watching the crappiest television show of all time,” said Benny loudly – the first words he had spoken while he fruitlessly tried to maintain a Wi-Fi connection.  


“It is not crappy!” barked Dean.  


“It’s not that bad,” admitted Jo, pulling her feet up on the couch so Gabriel could plop by her feet. “See, it’s about this hospital, with a lot of doctors and nurses who get up to some shit. Like, there’s this one guy who broods so much he’s practically Byronic – ,”  


“Try _moronic,_ ” interrupted the floppy-haired kid on Dean’s left. _Sammy,_ Castiel recalled. He was Dean’s younger brother. They didn’t look terribly similar, but there was something in the way the brothers carried themselves – the body language, perhaps – that made them distinct.  


“Wait – _wait wait wait wait wait_ , wait,” said Gabriel, “are you watching Dr. Sexy, M.D.?”  


“So, what if we are?” asked Dean, unusually defensive.  


“I _love_ Doctor Sexy!” cried Gabriel. “I watch it all the time with my mother!” Then, nudging Castiel, he beamed. “You know, that soap opera my mom and I made you watch that one Christmas when it was marathoning?”  


_Oh, dear God._ Castiel remembered that Christmas Day. His parents let him spend the night at Gabriel’s, where the Shurleys were committed to their traditions. Becky Shurley invited both boys to watch it with her after everyone in the house had gone to bed – all three of Gabriel’s older brothers and their father.  


It had been Castiel, Gabriel, and Becky. They watched seven episodes before Castiel called it and bailed, heading to bed. The plot of the episode had been a poorly-acted, over-the-top mystery; he recalled a ghost wandering the hospital, mistaking an impressionable rookie nurse for his lost lover. There was also something about a cheesecake and a neurosurgeon birthday party – all of which Castiel had thankfully forgotten about, until now.  


“Oh,” said Castiel, trying to sound upbeat – only to find Charlie, Benny, Vic, and Sammy laughing hysterically at his lack of enthusiasm.  


“Oh – my – God,” said Vic, “okay, Dean – props to you, he _is_ pretty funny.”  


“You’re all just snobs,” snapped Dean. “This show isn’t bad! _Really,_ it’s charming! I mean, the characters are iconic, and there’s always – ,”  


“Relax, Dean,” deadpanned Charlie, “nobody here is questioning your hard-on for McDreamy.”  


“I – I do not – !”  


“If you deny that,” said his younger brother sharply, “I am going to _kick you._ Oh my god. As if _literally_ everybody doesn’t notice your fixation.”  


Dean’s face was bright red. While he sputtered, his eyes landed on Castiel, who was laughing with the rest of the group at Dean’s expense. “You – are all terrible people and horrible friends!”  


“But of course,” teased Charlie, “what else are friends for?”  


There was a clamor at the front of the house. Half of the teenagers on the couch shot up from their seats, while the others lay mesmerized by Nurse Piccolo trying to tell Doctor Sexy _just how sexy he was_ , and this time – maybe, just maybe – he would believe it.  


“Pizza’s here!” shouted Charlie as she ascended to the living room once more. “Grab a plate and a slice. We got two pies, so if you somehow don’t make it in time, it’s your funeral.”  


They convened in the kitchen, where Charlie’s parents declared there would be a line to the pizza boxes. Castiel and Gabriel were the last on the line, fidgeting in solemn amusement while their peers yelled at each other and goofed off.  


Castiel took a single slice of pizza and, upon finding that the kitchen table was beyond full, stood awkwardly with his food in one hand. Just as Gabriel was taking up his own food, Dean’s younger brother stood from his chair next to Kevin and said, “Come on, let’s go into the living room.”  


Leaving Benny, Dean, Jo, Vic, Charlie, Kevin, and Charlie’s parents in the living room, Sam Winchester gestured towards Gabriel and Castiel, who were both chair-less. Amidst the chaos, it wasn’t difficult for the three to slip by unnoticed. Sam was followed into the living room, where he sat on the floor next to the knee-height coffee table.  


While the boys sat, Castiel glanced towards the entryway of the kitchen. He could still hear the shouting from the party going on, complete with the sound of paper and plastic cups being slammed and thrown.  


Situated, Gabriel began to eat his slice – quite thankfully, since he had truly been hungry. “Soooo… is it always like this?” he asked, looking at both Sam and Castiel for explanation.  


At Castiel’s shrug, Sam laughed. “I mean – Yeah, I guess we’re kind of a lot to deal with the first time around. But once the game starts, we’re all going into the basement and Charlie’s parents won’t hear a peep out of any of us.”  


Something in the kitchen splashed against the floor, making a familiar fizzle. “Ah, _fuck_ me!” someone that was definitely Dean Winchester yelled, only to be me met by a chorus of laughter.  


“Not a peep, huh?”  


“You’ll be impressed with their restraint,” said Sam with a laugh.  


The three boys ate some more under a rather awkward silence, nobody quite knowing what to say until Dean came from the kitchen. “Dude!” he said, glaring at Sam. “Why did you steal Cas? I was looking for him and I thought he went to, like, the bathroom or s – “  


“I didn’t steal anything!” barked Sam right back at him. “There was nowhere to sit and they were just standing there! Some friend _you_ are.”  


Dean faltered, looking at Castiel and Gabriel nervously. “Ah. Shit. I wasn’t – “  


“It’s perfectly fine, Dean,” said Castiel, smiling kindly. “Thank you for inviting us.”  


“Sure,” said Dean, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. “I was – Well, _anyway,_ reason why I came out here was to tell you guys that we’re heading downstairs to start the game in fifteen minutes.”  


“That early?”  


“Yeah, ‘cause we gotta explain a lot of shit to Kevin and Cas and – “ Dean paused, looking at Gabriel and hesitating. “Shit. I’m a dick.”  


“Ah, yes,” answered Gabriel robotically, “the noblest of names. I am ‘Shit, I’m a dick.’ The ‘dick’ part is from my mother’s side.”  


Sam nearly choked on his pizza, snorting quite loudly, while Dean sputtered. Taking pity on them all, Castiel glared at Gabriel (who was laughing as much as Sam) and explained, “Dean, this is Gabriel. Gabriel, Dean Winchester.”  


“Gabriel,” said Dean, nodding. “Okay. I think I’ve heard of you. You’re big with – ah – the theater kids, right?”  


“My reputation as a thespian precedes me,” joked Gabriel. “Yeah, that’s me.”  


“Thanks for coming with Cas,” Dean said. “He seems more comfortable with you here.”  


“No, I don’t,” said Castiel quickly, but it was far too late.  


“Awww, _Cassy,_ ” cooed Gabriel, “I love you too!” He made a big show of hugging Castiel, who squawked and threw a tantrum about how much he disliked being touched.  


Before Castiel was done with his second slice, the entire group was stampeding their way down the stairs. Dean and Sam gestured both Gabriel and Castiel on, leading them to a neat basement with two-fold-out tables situated next to each other in the center. While Charlie jogged back upstairs to get another chair (“Shit, I forgot one!”), everyone took their seats.  


“You ever play D’n’D before?” asked Benny, placing a laptop with an active video chat onto the chair next to him. Onscreen, a young man with a crazy head of hair appeared to be vaping something, leaning against his arm boredly as he waited for the game to start.  


“Um, no,” said Castiel, glancing between himself and Gabriel. “I don’t think either of us know anything about it, really.”  


“Okay,” said Jo, sitting forward, “basically, it’s a story-driven game. Charlie is our Dungeon Master – “  


“Yo, that’s me!” cried Charlie, coming back with the last chair. As Vic took his seat, Charlie stood at the end of the table and raised her arms. A hush fell over the room. “Alrighty. Newbies – nice to meet you all. Upstairs, I’m Charlie – but, down, here, I am your _queen._ ”  


“Preach, sister!” bellowed Vic, raising an arm out of respect.  


“Now,” said Charlie, quite proudly, “as your queen, there are a few provisos – a few quid-pro-quos – “  


“Fucking _end me._ ”  


“Heeyyyy, wait!” cried Jo. “Nobody said hi to Ash!”  


“ _HI, ASH!_ ”  


“ _JESUS CHRIST,_ ” Ash shouted at the group, “ _I’m wearing earbuds, you dumbfucks – !_ ”  


Charlie once again gestured the room into a quiet lull. “Now, it has been said by many,” she proclaimed, “that taking on an _eleven-player_ party when almost half of them are newbs is – well – a challenge. But I, your beloved queen, rise to the occasion!”  


A cheer erupted from the group. Oddly enough, Gabriel and Castiel joined in – the pomp of the evening was enough to rile them up just as much as the Dungeons and Dragons veterans.  


“ _Wait,_ ” said Ash, “ _eleven people? Are all of you nuts? Maybe if you all knew what you were doing, but that’s not –_ “  


“Hush, naysayer!” declared Charlie. “The crown is no longer yours!” She promptly clapped, gesturing down at the gameboard imploringly while Dean handed out pieces of paper to everybody. “Now – shall we play a game?”  


As the group rushed into characters (something Castiel and Gabriel were still confused in), Gabriel leaned over towards Castiel and asked, genuinely as possible, “I think we joined a cult.”  


“I – will get back to you on that.” 

  


Dungeons and Dragons, with eleven people, was a _mess._ Ash was completely correct; it would have made more sense to hold such a big party if everybody involved knew what they were doing. Alas, Kevin, Castiel, Gabriel, and Sam were the ‘newbs,’ as Charlie called it, and their presence as a defining factor.  


Castiel was quite proud of his character by the end of the night. His name was Jimmy ( _“Jimmy? Really, Cas? You can’t think up something more creative than that?”_ ) and he was a dwarf fighter with high Constitution and Strength, low Dexterity, and middle-range Intellect and Wisdom. He had absolutely no idea what he was doing the entire game. In fact, for much of the game, he only vaguely understood what was happening – all that seemed clear was how seriously the rest of the group seemed to take it.  


Gabriel’s character was a high elf rogue – a character that Jo and Vic both warned Gabriel against, since it might become too difficult. He tried it, nonetheless, and named it ‘Loki.’ While he, too, was puzzled by much of the game, he seemed to genuinely be having fun.  


By the time they called it quits, it was eleven o’clock. They only really stopped because Castiel’s parents called and (politely) demanded that he get himself back to their house. He obeyed, of course, and made a point of going upstairs and seeing Charlie’s parents before he made his departure.  


“Thank you very much for having us,” he told them, just before there was a car honk outside.  


“Oh, _honey,_ ” Charlie’s mom said, “come back anytime! You’re such a sweetheart!”  


“Thank you,” echoed Gabriel, leading Castiel to the door. “We had a lot of fun!”  


“Anytime at all, sweet pea!”  


With that, the two went into the car and sagged against their seats. They were exhausted – somehow, the amount of thought that was required to be put into a game like Dungeons and Dragons was entirely energy-draining. “I could sleep for a week,” said Gabriel as they shut the doors behind them. Then, finding Castiel’s mother in the front seat, he smiled. “Thank you for driving me home, Mrs. Milton.”  


“Of course,” she said. She seemed hesitant to say much as they drove back to their development, filing it all down to small-talk. “So, you both had fun?”  


“Those guys,” said Gabriel, “are _awesome._ I had no idea AP-kids could somehow manage a perfect combination of dorky and cool. It was great.”  


“AP-kids, huh?” asked Naomi, turning on her blinker at a red light. “Have you two been friends with them for a long time?”  


“Not that long,” admitted Castiel. “But they’re very nice and they were very welcoming.”  


“Almost _too_ welcoming.” Then, as an afterthought, Gabriel sighed loudly. “Man, I should _not_ have eaten so much.”  


“I told you not to eat a third slice of pizza!”  


“Well – shut your face!” said Gabriel. “You ate all of the tortilla chips before anybody else could!”  


Sputtering, Castiel cried, “I – I didn’t – I _thought_ – I mean, nobody – !”  


“Then again, Dean was right next to you on that with the popcorn. Seriously, you’re both food hoarders.”  


They reached the Shurley’s house at a quarter-to-midnight. Gabriel thanked Naomi for the ride once more, gave Castiel a mock salute, and went into the house. As his mother pulled out of the driveway, Castiel fidgeted. “Um – sorry it got so late,” he said. “I didn’t realize. We were so caught up in the game, and – and there was a lot going on.”  


“You were playing that game for _nine hours_ and nobody thought, once, to look at a clock?” asked Naomi, blatantly irritated. “Now, Castiel, I realize that you like these people, but imagine how it felt to come home and call your name, and you weren’t there? Your _sister_ had to tell me where you were.”  


“Sorry,” said Castiel again. “Really, Mom, I didn’t – I didn’t know it would take that long. Dean said the game usually takes up a lot of time, but I didn’t realize just how much. I wasn’t trying to worry you or be disrespectful, I just – I _really_ didn’t notice.”  


They pulled up to their house. As his mother shut the car off, she hummed quietly, nodding. “Well, okay,” she said. “If you say it was an honest mistake, then it was an honest mistake.”  


Castiel could suddenly breathe again. “Thank you,” he told her gratefully. “Really, I promise it won’t happen again.”  


“It better not.” With finality, Naomi opened the door to the car and walked around her side while Castiel got out too. As they walked to the door, she wrapped an arm around him –  


“ _Mom!_ ”  


– and gave him a kiss on the forehead. As they went up the porch, she smiled. “So, you really did have fun with your new friends?”  


“Yes,” he said, trying to delicately extricate himself from her hold. “I did.”  


“I’m glad. You don’t have enough friends.”  


“Wh – that’s not true!”  


“You have _Gabriel,_ ” she said, “and that’s it.” She used her key on the door, letting the two stumble into the house and find the living room entirely dark. “Alright. Are you going to bed now, then?”  


“I – haven’t eaten, really. I mean, we ate pizza a while ago, and then I, um, ate my weight in tortilla chips. But I’m – I’m going to probably make myself something.”  


“I could make it,” his mom offered. “What would you like?”  


“No, Mom, it – You go to sleep. You have work tomorrow. I can manage.”  


“Are you sure, Honey Bee?”  


“ _Yes,_ Mom, go to bed,” he insisted, shooing her. “I’ll be fine.”  


As his mother finally left him by his lonesome, Castiel sat at the table with something small to eat. While eating, he reflected on the day’s good parts. None of it, really, could be considered bad. The entire day was probably one of the happiest days he had had in a long time.  


Just as Castiel was finally getting into bed for the night, it occurred to him that his sexuality had not come up in any conversation at all. Not only that – but he didn’t panic about it once, didn’t worry at all. If anything, Castiel felt more comfortable in his own skin than he ever had.  


And that, truly, was the real miracle. 

  


AP-Lit became one of Castiel’s favorite classes. Not only did he not dislike the subject, but Dean was a very good friend of his by the middle of the semester. Dean, unlike Castiel, _loved_ AP-Lit. As Castiel would discover in the coming weeks of their friendship, Dean was a much more avid reader than most gave him credit for. In fact, Dean was so passionate about some of the books that he read that he somehow convinced Castiel to pick up a novel.  


“You’re reading it,” said Dean excitedly as he walked into their class one day. “ _Dude,_ you’re actually reading a book I recommended to you!”  


“Calm down,” said Castiel, “I’m on page six.”  


“Do you like Holden?” asked Dean. Then, seeing Castiel’s sour look, he corrected himself: “I mean – When you finish, tell me. I’m curious whether you’ll like him or not. It’s usually fifty-fifty.”  


“I like the book so far. It’s – interesting.”  


“Yeah, but liking the character is different than liking the book.”  


“I promise to tell you exactly what I think of it and him when I finish,” said Castiel. He placed his bookmark (some out-of-season Christmas bookmark with an angel and a tree on it that Dean claimed ‘reminded him of Cas’) over his page and shut the book, looking up at Dean.  


“Wh – Aren’t you reading?”  


“Class is about to start,” said Castiel, entirely amused. “Plus, I figured we were going to end up talking.”  


“Yeah,” said Dean, “we do that a lot, huh?” He was smiling as he turned in his seat to face Castiel, leaning against his friend’s desk. “ _So._ What’s the word, Cas?”  


“I – It’s a shortened version of my name.”  


At Dean’s laugher, Castiel smiled. “Dude, I meant – What’s _up,_ Cas?”  


“Oh,” said Castiel, “you know what happened yesterday? I went over to Gabriel’s, and before he came downstairs, I was talking to his mother. She had that show on, with the doctors and the hospital – “  


“Doctor Sexy?” asked Dean, grinning. “Damn, that woman’s got taste.”  


“No offense, but that show is garbage.”  


“Offense taken, dickwad!” cried Dean. “How _dare_ you! You’ve never even really watched it!”  


“There are lots of things that I haven’t watched before that I know I wouldn’t enjoy,” insisted Castiel. “Like Doctor Sexy, M.D.”  


“Well, Doctor Sexy is great, and you’re missing out,” insisted Dean. “And I bet the other things you ‘know you wouldn’t enjoy’ are probably great.”  


“Ugh.”  


“Name a few,” said Dean, immediately setting off alarm bells in Castiel’s mind. “Dude, come on. What shows haven’t you seen?”  


“I – would rather not discuss that.”  


“ _Cas._ ”  


“I… I don’t necessarily mean television shows,” said Castiel. “And – it’s usually a topic that I try to avoid. I’ve gotten some very – _passionate_ – reactions when I tell people.”  


“Well, now you have to tell me,” insisted Dean, “‘cause you hyped it up. So, out with it. What movies have you never seen?”  


“Dean…”  


Apparently getting tired of waiting, Dean squinted at him and entertained a few possibilities. “Die Hard?”  


“What?”  


“Dude, it’s a question. Have you ever watched Die Hard?”  


“I – Well, no, but that’s not – “  


“M’kay. What about – Dirty Harry, or, like, Alien?” Dean’s interest slowly faded into worry as Castiel continued shaking his head. “Planet of the Apes? Terminator? Ocean’s Eleven? _Indiana Jones?_ Lord of the Rings? Star Wars?” Then – “You’ve _never seen Star Wars?_ ”  


“When I was young, I wasn’t allowed to watch a lot of those movies,” argued Castiel. “My mother thought that it would influence us to be more violent, which is the same reason why I’ve never played a lot of video games.”  


“Call of Duty or Halo?” demanded Dean. “Uh – Mortal Kombat? Super Smash Brothers? Dude, your parents _suck._ ”  


Rolling his eyes, Castiel laughed. “My parents do not ‘suck,’” he argued. “They used to be much more set in their ways. They’ve calmed down a lot, I think, compared to what they used to be.”  


“Yeah, but – that’s practically censorship!”  


“No,” corrected Castiel, “that’s parenting.”  


Dean seemed at a loss for arguments. It wasn’t until their teacher convened the class and started talking about the newest assignment that he turned to Castiel with an idea. “You were on a tight leash as a kid, but you’re allowed to watch all of that stuff _now,_ right?”  


“Within reason, yes.”  


“Castiel Milton,” said Dean, startling him with the sudden use of his full name. “Will you allow me to lead you on this journey through popular culture?”  


“I – You’re not going to take ‘no’ for an answer, are you?” asked Castiel. “Dean, you don’t have to do this, really. I doubt I’d like more than half of those movies. I’ve looked them up before, and they just – don’t seem very appealing to me.”  


“ _Everybody_ likes those movies, Cas!” cried Dean. “That’s why they’re renowned cult classics! Come on, please? We’ll ease you into it, I promise, and if you change your mind or get tired of me, we’ll give up.”  


Castiel considered the options. He knew that saying no would probably save them both a lot of effort and time, but he also realized that it would probably upset Dean. With that in mind, he relented. “We can’t do this at my house, though. My parents aren’t as strict, but they still find it offensive. And – I can’t promise that I won’t freak out. I _never_ watch violent movies.”  


“They’re not just violent,” insisted Dean, “they’re iconic!” Just before their class began, he quickly scribbled out an address, which Castiel gratefully accepted. “Just you wait! I guarantee, you’ll like at least some of them.” 

  


After school on Friday, Castiel took the bus home with Dean. He had never taken a different bus home before. Dean’s bus was much rowdier than his, leading the two of them to a quiet seat in the midst of the noise. They talked the entire way there – Dean mentioning his excited and honored he was that Castiel was basically “losing his nerd-culture virginity” with him, which –  


“Never, _ever_ say that to me again.”  


“This is our stop!” called Dean, narrowly dodging having to answer that. They exited the bus, and Dean led Castiel a few houses down until they found a nice house that they both found empty. “Okay, good news,” said Dean. “Sammy’s off doing some debate club today, Bobby is at the garage, Ellen is at the bar, and Jo is probably off, stalking Benny, only God knows where.”  


“I – That’s good news?”  


“Yes,” said Dean, “because we have the whole house to ourselves, including the big TV and the couch.” Entirely in his element, Dean dropped his backpack next to the couch an started for the kitchen. “You hungry?”  


“Oh, um – No, thank you.”  


“Dude, I’ve seen you eat,” called Dean. “There’s no shame. Are you hungry or not?”  


“I feel – awkward, taking your food.”  


“Okay,” said Dean, “you’re too polite, so I’m just going to make an oven-pizza and we can share it. Sound good?”  


“Excellent, thank you.”  


“Dude, stop being so nice to me.”  


“Sorry.”  


At Dean’s ensuing glare, Castiel laughed. “Smartass,” grumbled Dean, coming back from the kitchen. He passed Castiel, who was still standing by the front of the living room awkwardly. Once he noticed Castiel’s discomfort, he nodded towards the couch. “Come on, buddy, I ain’t gonna bite. You can put your stuff down.”  


“Where should I – ?”  


“Anywhere’s good.” Dean turned on the television and started up a gaming console that Castiel only vaguely recognized from commercials. He was just opening Hulu when he noticed Castiel’s confusion. “Shit. Fine. Um – put your stuff next to mine. Okay, Cas?”  


“Absolutely.” Castiel did as he was told and sat down beside Dean. Still, he worried. “Should we put our backpacks in the living room? My mom would kill me if I did this.”  


“Ellen will just ask us to move it, if she feels the need to have the living room. But I doubt she’ll care, since I have a guest over.”  


“Okay.”  


“ _Cas._ Relax.”  


“Sorry,” apologized Castiel again. “I don’t – I don’t usually go over other people’s houses. My social life is typically limited to hanging out with Gabriel, and then maybe the rest of our church’s Sunday School. Most of them don’t even really like me. They think I’m a know-it-all.”  


“Well, they sound like jerks.”  


“They’re not that bad.”  


“You’re just too nice, Cas,” said Dean – and he sounded truly genuine, making Castiel feel praised and understood enough to lean back on the couch and finally try to calm down. “So, I thought that, for the beginning of your cinematic education, we could start with something fun that lots of people usually enjoy.”  


“That sounds logical enough,” admitted Castiel. “What did you have in mind?”  


“The Indiana Jones movies,” said Dean. “ _Or_ maybe Jurassic Park. Have you ever seen Jurassic Park? Yeah, I figured – or, alternatively, we could watch Terminator. Your pick.”  


“Well… which one would you suggest?”  


“I dunno,” shrugged Dean. He paused briefly, thinking. “I think Indiana Jones is the least – I dunno – violent or scary, maybe? It’s more about adventure and, you know, mythology kind of stuff. Jurassic Park is probably in the middle – it’s about a park that recreates dinosaurs, and there are some parts of it that get tense, and characters do die. Terminator is – Okay, Terminator is great, but it might be a bit much for your first dive into this.”  


“I think I understand a lot of the plot for most of the movies you’ve mentioned,” admitted Castiel. “Like – I know Jurassic Park has dinosaurs and a park, and Indiana Jones is an adventurer. I don’t know Terminator, though. Perhaps we should start off with Indiana Jones and work our way up.”  


“Sounds perfect,” said Dean. “Raiders of the Lost Ark it is – “  


In the kitchen, the oven beeped.  


“ – _after_ I put that pizza in. Crap.”  


The movie was enjoyable. More enjoyable than Castiel had ever given it credit for, in fact. He felt rather ridiculous for ever having such a haughty opinion, and by the movie’s end, he was eager to start the second. It was during the last minutes of Raiders of the Lost Ark, while Dean prepared to turn on The Temple of Doom, that the door to the house opened.  


Sam and Jo walked up to the living room, saw the television on, and seemed intrigued – until they noticed Castiel on the couch with Dean with two plates of oven-pizza between them. Jo was the first to unashamedly enter the living room, while Sam awkwardly went straight to the kitchen.  


“Huh,” said Jo, looking at Dean curiously, “I thought you were having, like, Charlie over, or something.”  


“Nope,” said Dean. “It’s Cas. You remember Cas?”  


“I remember Cas,” said Jo. “I just – I didn’t realize he was coming over. It was silly of me, honestly. I should’ve put two and two together.” She looked at Castiel and waved hello. Then, by way of explanation, she insisted, “He talks about you _a lot_.”  


“Hey, Jo?” interrupted Dean. “You think you could be a normal teenage girl and go – like – to your room, ignoring everybody?”  


“Aw, Dean, but this is so much more fun!” said Jo. She situated herself in the spot next to Castiel, peering at him as if, since the last time they had spoken, he had been upgraded from something menially interesting and was now a shiny new toy. “How you doing, Cas?”  


“I’m well, thank you,” he answered. Looking between Dean and Jo, he returned the question. “How are you, Jo?”  


“Oh, I’m fantastic. Dean, you okay? You look kind of annoyed.”  


“Fuck off, Harvelle.”  


“Yikes. You are _grumpy_ when you have boys over.” With that, Jo hopped up from the couch and bounced her way down the hallway. “Later, Winchesters!”  


The door to her shut. Dean waited until Sam went into his own corner of the house before he looked at Castiel, horrified. “I am _so_ sorry. She’s – herself.”  


“It’s alright,” said Castiel. “I have younger sisters, too. They can be… troubling.”  


“You’ve got siblings?” asked Dean.  


“Two of them. They are evil.” After Dean’s laughter subsided, Castiel glanced at him. “I didn’t realize Jo was your sister. I mean – I knew that Sam was your brother, but Charlie never mentioned it.”  


“Oh,” Dean said, faltering slightly. “It’s – I mean, Sam is my brother. Jo is really more of a surrogate sister. My adopted sister, I guess.”  


“Oh.”  


“When we were kids, we came to live with Bobby and Ellen,” explained Dean. “We’ve been here ever since, so Jo is basically our sister, in everything but name. She sure does like to act like an annoying sister, now that you mention it…”  
Castiel smiled at the clear fondness in Dean’s voice. He wondered – vaguely – what sort of situation might lead to the Winchester having a surrogate family, but he knew better than to ask something so invasive. If Dean wanted to tell him, then he would have. “You seem to get along well, I think. Better than I do with my sisters.”  


Dean fiddled with the television remote, starting up The Temple of Doom and pausing it again, looking at Castiel. “You don’t get along with your sisters?” he asked.  


“I think I already told you that they were evil, right?”  


“Oh, my God, Cas, you cannot just say ‘they’re evil’ and not explain,” insisted Dean. “What do they do that’s so bad?”  


“Is it too immature of me to tell you that they gang up on me?”  


“ _Jesus Christ._ ”  


“Plus, we have a very large age gap. Bigger than you with Jo or Sam. It’s difficult to find things in common, I suppose.”  


“How old are they?”  


“Hannah just turned eight recently, and Anna is ten.”  


“You have two sisters named _Hannah and Anna?_ ”  


“Technically, Anna and Hannah, since Anna was born first.”  


“So – let me get this straight,” said Dean. “Your parents named their oldest and only son ‘ _Castiel,_ ’ and then they thought it was a good idea to name their girls Anna and then Hannah?”  


“Unfortunately, yes.”  


“Your sisters sound like they’re straight out of The Shining, oh, my God.”  


Castiel tilted his head, puzzled.  


Dean gasped, looking scandalized. “Oh, _dude,_ we are so adding to the list of movies we need to watch!”

  


“The Exorcist was a mistake,” Castiel told Gabriel one night. They were standing in the kitchen of the Shurley household, while Gabriel stirred batter with a mixer. He was making a cake celebrating the return of his older brothers over the winter break.  


Castiel enjoyed the winter recess this year more than he usually did. This year, he went to Dean’s house for hours on end, now that they had oodles of free time without school. They would watch sometimes four movies in one night, having full marathons of franchises or series that Dean deemed important to Castiel’s ‘education.’ Plus, aside from just Dean, he and Gabriel could hang out whenever they pleased – and Charlie invited them for another night of Dungeons and Dragons too!  


“Wait,” said Gabriel, turning the mixer down by a setting and looking at Castiel, utterly mystified. “Did you just say that you watched _The Exorcist?_ ”  


“I know!” cried Castiel. “It was a horrible idea! I barely slept last night!”  


“I – I cannot believe that _Cassy Milton_ watched The Exorcist,” insisted Gabriel, staring into his cake batter existentially. “My God, they grow up so fast!”  


“He wants to watch Jaws next, I think,” said Castiel, pondering. “And – something called Shawshank Redemption.”  


“Oh, I watched that once!” said Gabriel, looking up. “Shawshank Redemption. Michael showed me.”  


“Is it scary?”  


“It’s not a horror movie,” Gabriel reassured him. “You won’t lose sleep over it. Hey, hand me the lemon extract from the top shelf in the – yeah, that cabinet.”  


Castiel opened the cupboard and looked at the various bottles and ingredients, only to find the lemon extract in the back of the topmost shelf. He handed it over to Gabriel, who took a teaspoon and started to measure it out. “I can’t believe I sat through that _whole_ movie.”  


“You were scared?” asked Gabriel, grinning.  


“Yes!” cried Castiel hysterically. “And then – and then Dean is just _unfazed,_ and he looks more amused by my reaction than he is entertained by the movie!”  


“Uh-huh…”  


“It got to the point that when he got up to get something to drink, his arm brushed up against me, and I _screamed_ because some girl had – just – _stabbed herself_ with a holy crucifix – and then Dean was – _laughing at me!_ ”  


“That is hilarious,” said Gabriel, “and I wish I was there to witness it.”  


“Ngghh.” Castiel buried his face in his hands, hiding his red cheeks. “It was embarrassing. I can’t believe Dean saw me like that.”  


Gabriel paused slightly. He seemed to consider something, biting his lip and looking at Castiel before he turned off the mixer to the cake batter and teetered from side to side, clearly nervous about what he was about to say. “Hey, ah – Cassy?”  


“Yes?”  


“So,” said Gabriel, raising an eyebrow, “Dean Winchester.”  


“What about him?”  


“I – Nothing, just – ,” Gabriel shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “He’s nice to you.”  


Castiel nodded, understanding. “He is. I didn’t ever think the two of us would make good friends, but – It kind of just worked out for itself, weirdly enough.”  


“Yeah,” said Gabriel. “It seems like it did.”  


“We’re home!” a voice called, as the Shurley clan piled into the house rather chaotically. “Gabriel, come say hi!”  


Gabriel flailed, whirling about and rushing towards the front of the house. “Luci! You’re home!”  


“I’m here too,” pointed out Michael.  


“Yeah, but I wanted to ignore you because it annoys you.”  


“ _Gabriel!_ ” scolded Becky. “Be nice to your brother!”  


“Hey, I’m delightful!” insisted Gabriel. Almost immediately after saying hello to his two siblings, he shuffled back into the kitchen, where the family followed him.  


Castiel straightened as Michael and Lucifer Shurley, Gabriel’s oldest brothers, entered. He used to always be rather nervous around them, especially Lucifer. In their childhood, Michael was an even worse rule-follower than Castiel, while Lucifer was even worse rule-breaker than Gabriel. It caused a bit of a divide within the household, unsurprisingly.  


“Hello,” said Castiel, smiling at the pair. “Welcome home.”  


“Ah, yes,” said Lucifer, “exactly what I knew would happen when I come home: the stray cat is in the kitchen!”  


“Wait,” said Castiel, looking at Gabriel, “you told him about that?”  


“I – No, I didn’t.”  


“Oh, God,” said Lucifer, “I do not want to know what kind of kinky shit the two of you are up to.”  


“Aw, _gross,_ Luc,” said Gabriel, taking a dollop of cake batter and flicking it at him. “He’s wasn’t – !”  


“Now, Gabe,” said Lucifer, his tone mocking and condescending. “I think we’re well past the point where someone discusses with you the whole ‘love is love’ thing.”  


“I _know_ th – ,”  


“It’s not like everyone hasn’t realized by now that Castiel, here, is your boyfriend.”  


A silence fell over the room. Both Castiel and Gabriel stopped, looking at each other in bewilderment. The first person to move was Becky, who placed a comforting hand on Castiel’s shoulder, as if –  


“Oh, no,” said Castiel. “Oh, _no, no, no, no, no. **No.**_ ”  


“Perhaps,” said Michael quickly, “this isn’t an appropriate conversation to be had right after we just got home. We can change the subject.”  


“Um,” said Gabriel, his voice squeakishly high, “ _no,_ thank you, Michael, but – _Rewind._ Luc, what did you mean by that?”  


Lucifer breathed deeply, glancing behind him for the staircase. “Listen, Gabe, it’s not a big deal. Nobody really cares. Plus, the two of you are kind of crappy at hiding it.”  


“Hiding – a relationship?” reiterated Gabriel. “You think that Castiel and I are _secret gay lovers_ and – what – we’ve just been quietly biding our very homosexual time to ever bother to mention it? You actually think that?”  


“Maybe we shouldn’t discuss this right about now,” said Becky, her voice soft. “Honey, calm down. We love you.”  


“ _Oh, my God,_ ” said Gabriel, turning to Castiel, who remained frozen in shock. “Oh – my _God._ Cassy. They’re _serious._ ”  


“What are you making?” Becky asked him, trying to hastily change the subject. “It smells delicious!”  


“Okay, no, wait,” insisted Gabriel. “Mom, I’m not in the middle of a gay panic! I’m not in the closet! I’m not gay!”  


“Gabriel,” his mother said, her eyes set firmly on him. “It’s okay. _Really._ We _love you._ ”  


Sputtering, Gabriel threw his arms up in frustration. “Great, so – I’m in denial, in your heads. Great! Do you mind telling me what it is about me that makes you think Castiel and I are going to elope, or something?”  


“Well, honey, the two of you are always together,” explained Becky. “It’s always been the two of you, off, going places, seeing things – Castiel and Gabriel against the world. You spend a _lot_ of time together. Plus, you’re always involved in those theater and musicals and your concerts, and you’re so supportive of each other – ,”  


“So,” said Gabriel, “I’m gay and in love with my best friend because I’m into musical theater. That’s – that’s what I’m taking away from this, I hope you know that.”  


“It’s more than that,” argued Becky. “The two of you have sleepovers, and you – There was that time I came into your room, Gabe, and you were doing Castiel’s _nails_ – !”  


“That was a dare!” cried Gabriel hysterically.  


“ – or when the two of you fell asleep cuddled on the couch that one time, and Castiel became so embarrassed – !”  


“Because we were _cuddling!_ ”  


“ – or when we went sledding that one time with the Novaks and Castiel hurt himself, and you were so intent on making sure he was okay!”  


“What?” said Gabriel. “Am I supposed to be, like – ‘ _no, it’s too gay for me to take care of you, bro. I don’t care if you’re injured, bro._ ’”  


“And I never said you were ‘in love’ or that you were going to ‘elope,’” snapped Becky. She paused, frowning at Gabriel imploringly. “You _better_ not elope, young man. Naomi and I have waited quite a long time for this to ever come up in any conversation, and I speak for the two of us that we expect a wedding with a reception and everything!”  


There was – silence.  


Castiel blinked. Once – twice. “I.” He looked up at Gabriel, whose mouth was open, looking just as shocked as Castiel was. “W-wait. My mother thinks I’m in a relationship with – She thinks – She thinks that _Gabriel and I_ are – ?”  


“Yes!” cried Becky hysterically. “Everybody thinks so!”  


“My – my mother,” said Castiel, “has discussed the very _gay_ nature of my relationship with Gabriel. With you.”  


“It’s difficult not to talk about, when the two of you are practically each other’s only friend.”  


“Fuck,” said Gabriel loudly, the first and only time he would ever utter such a word in front of his mother. Ignoring his family’s sudden uproar, Gabriel was only looking at Castiel, his eyes wide. “Cassy, oh, my God.”  


Somewhere in the mess, with Becky yelling at Gabriel to watch his language and his older brothers split between laughing and yelling with her, Castiel began to laugh. He laughed about – nothing, he supposed. It shouldn’t have been funny. This _thing_ that he had been so fearful of – something that kept him up at night and made him wonder if his parents would ever look at him the same.  


At some point, his laughter turned into tears. He felt ridiculously emotional over the most unprecedented accusations. To think that the Shurleys believing Castiel and Gabriel were an item would relieve him of the constant worry – to make it _okay_ –  


“I don’t care,” Gabriel snapped to his mom, ignoring his family to go up to Castiel. He poked him gently, his eyes full of concern. “Bro, you okay?”  


“I’m – I – _Gabe,_ that – ,”  


“I know. Christ, Cassy, I _know._ ”  


“Um.” Castiel finally looked at the rest of the Shurleys, who were puzzled. Awkwardly standing up, Castiel smiled at them quietly. “I – I’m going to, um. Head home now. Is that okay?”  


“It’s – It’s fine, honey,” said Becky. “You’re okay to walk by yourself?”  


“Y-yeah. I’m fine.”  


“Gabriel could walk you home,” suggested Becky. “I didn’t raise him not to be a gentleman, you know.”  


“Oh, dear _Lord._ ”  


Castiel laughed through his tears, rubbing the ends of his sleeve against his eyes. “That is very kind, Mrs. Shurley. Thank you. I’ll be okay.” He looked at Gabriel, who was smiling at him. “I’m – I’m gonna go.”  


“You’re gonna tell them?” asked Gabriel.  


“Maybe. I dunno. I feel very – emotional. Perhaps it’d be better if I did it another time, when I wasn’t…”  


“In shock?”  


“I’m fine. Bye, okay?”  


“Bye, Cassy. Good luck, man.”  


On his way home, Castiel felt the weight lifting off his chest. He smiled at the pavement underfoot, thinking about _positive_ reactions to him telling them. His mother would see it coming – and if his mother knew, that meant that his father almost certainly had heard about it.  


Castiel rarely felt excitement like he did then. He wanted to tell someone about it – the first person he could think of was Dean. _God,_ he couldn’t wait to tell Dean. Talking to Dean was the highlight of his day, but once Dean heard this, he’d throw Castiel a fucking _party._  


The house was loud, when he got home. Hannah was watching something on the television in the living room, all the while working through the pages of a coloring book. Anna was presumably in her bedroom, judging by the music blasting. Castiel’s parents were in their bedroom, Castiel found.  


Naomi was putting in her earrings when he found her. “Castiel,” she said, noticing him watching her. “Hi, sweetie. You’re early. How was Gabriel?”  


“Fine,” he said. He wondered if Becky was right – Did she _actually_ believe what Becky had claimed? Naomi seemed far too nonchalant – far too relaxed – for it to be plausible.  


“Just ‘fine?’” asked Naomi with a laugh. “You helped him make that cake for his brothers, right?”  


“Well – he made it and I handed him ingredients,” mumbled Castiel. “And I expect a slice of the cake when it’s finished, so – yeah, I helped. Sort of.”  


Naomi laughed, picking up her American flag pin and putting it on the lapel of her blazer. “That’s lovely,” she said. “I know you love it when he feeds you.”  


“I’m his cat,” joked Castiel.  


She chuckled, looking up at the mirror, and then at Castiel. He smiled faded suddenly. “Oh, gosh – Honey, are you okay? You look like you’ve been crying.”  


“I’m fine,” said Castiel, not for the first time that night.  


She still looked worried. “You didn’t get into a fight with Gabriel, did you? Everything’s okay?”  


Castiel laughed – _really_ laughed. The confusion on his mother’s face spoke volumes. “Yeah, Mom. We’re great. Everything’s great.” 

  


Dean drove his car to Castiel’s house the next day. They were planning on watching Jaws and Shawshank Redemption, just as Castiel had told Gabriel. Their plans changed rather abruptly, not too long after Dean parked in the driveway.  


“Cassy!” called Anna. “You have a friend here!”  


Castiel panicked, of course, because he was still in bed and hadn’t eaten yet. He squawked in surprise and shouted something frantic to his sister while he tried to find a clean shirt and a pair of jeans. He backtracked twice – once when he realized the shirt he had on was stained, and a second time when he noticed how cold it was and he wanted a coat. In the end, he settled for a thin red hoodie and ran into the hallway, down the stairs to the front door – to find nobody there.  


“Anna?” demanded Castiel. “Where is – ?”  


“Up here, Cas!”  


Castiel halted, looking back up the stairs and immediately worrying. He prepared for the worst as he jogged back up the staircase and found Dean sitting on their sofa with a very curious and starry-eyed Anna sitting next to him.  


“So, that’s your car?” asked Anna, smiling at Dean brightly.  


“Oh, yeah,” said Dean. “It was my dad’s, but then it was in a bad car accident. I rebuilt it myself, from the ground, up.”  


“That is _so_ cool,” said Anna. “You’re way too cool to be friends with Cassy.”  


Castiel was struck with a feeling of utter annoyance with Anna’s fixation on Dean and her insistence that Castiel was not, in fact, ‘cool enough.’ He glared at his sister, slipping past her and going up to Dean. 

“Leave him alone, Anna.”  


“I’m just being nice!” she snapped, glaring right back at him.  


“You’re being a pest,” he told her pointedly.  


Anna’s jaw dropped. “Why are you so mean all of the sudden?” she demanded. “You _just_ woke up!”  


“Yeah – well – leave Dean alone!”  


“Ugh, _fine._ Have him all to yourself.” Anna gave Dean a quick goodbye and then rushed back to the dining room, where she had been eating her breakfast prior to his arrival.  


While Anna went back to her cereal, Dean looked on at Castiel’s state in amusement. “You just woke up, huh?” At Castiel’s nod, Dean smirked. “Yeah, I guess I could kinda tell. Your – your hair’s a mess.”  


Castiel felt himself blushing while he tried desperately to fix the hair on his head, making it less spiky. “It’s your fault I’m not ready, you know. I told you eight o’clock!”  


“It _is_ eight o’clock!”  


“It’s seven-fifty,” said Castiel. “You’re supposed to leave your house to come get me _at_ eight o’clock, not be here _before_ eight o’clock! That makes no sense!”  


“The only thing that doesn’t make sense is you.”  


“Can you blame me? I haven’t had coffee yet!” Castiel rubbed his bleary eyes and started for the kitchen, startling when Dean caught his wrist.  


“Whoa, where you going?” said Dean. “We’re leaving now, right?”  


“Dean,” said Castiel, “ _coffee._ ”  


“Oh. You’ve already got some made?”  


“I’ll put it on now. Just – wait, we can both have some.”  


Dean whined impatiently. “Do you _really_ have to, Cas?”  


“Dean,” said Castiel once more, “ _coffee._ ”  


“Christ, you’re a brat when you’re tired,” muttered Dean. “Okay, tell you what? We’ll pick up coffee on the way to my house!”  


“But – that’s money,” said Castiel. “Money I don’t have.”  


“Okay, _I’ll_ pay for your coffee.”  


“Dean, _no._ You are not buying me coffee. Just let me make a brew, it’ll only take – ,”  


“Cas!”  


“Are you _really_ that impatient?” asked Castiel. “You can’t wait a handful of minutes? We _have to_ leave, right now?”  


“Okay, I give up.”  


“Good,” said Castiel, turning to head into the kitchen –  


Dean grabbed at Castiel’s arm once more, tugging on him as he rushed down the stairs and cackled, all the while ignored Castiel screaming at him to _stop._  


As the car pulled out of the driveway, Castiel scowled. “I hate you,” he told Dean.  


“Aw, don’t say that,” said Dean, lolling head with a silly grin. “Say, you wanna go to Starbucks or – you know, just tell me where and I’ll drive.”  


“Ugh. Wherever is closest is fine, as long as they serve coffee black.”  


“You drink coffee _black?_ ”  


“Yes,” said Castiel, “and it is _delightful._ ”  


“If you have no soul, maybe.”  


“I cannot believe you dragged me out of my house and pushed me into the front seat of some car!” said Castiel stubbornly. “And now you’re being judgmental about my coffee.”  


Dean gasped suddenly. “Cas, this is not just ‘ _some car._ ’ This is _Baby._ ”  


“What.”  


“Cas,” said Dean loudly, “meet Baby. Baby, meet Cas.”  


Castiel looked around the car, glancing at the dashboard. It looked like a perfectly ordinary vehicle. “Are – Are you serious?”  


“Cas, I would never ‘kid’ about the love of my life,” said Dean sharply. “This car? She’s gotten me through some tough times.”  


“Dean,” said Castiel, “it’s a _car._ ”  


“No, _she’s_ a car.”  


“Oh, my God,” said Castiel, to nobody in particularly – certainly not Baby. “Dean, your car is not sentient, nor does ‘she’ understand any – “  


“Aw, Baby, don’t listen to him!” muttered Dean. “He don’t know what he’s talkin’ about. Nobody ever understands us...”  


Castiel rubbed his forehead, exhausted. “Um,” he said, “you know what? Starbucks sounds good. Just – just take me to Starbucks.” He leaned his head against the window, his eyes drooping and almost shutting – before he sat up abruptly, panicking. “I didn’t tell my parents I was leaving!”  


“Your sister knows,” pointed out Dean.  


“I – Yes, but I’m supposed to say goodbye to them,” Castiel said. “My mom is going to – _Ugh._ ”  


“Crap. Do you want me to turn around?”  


“No. No, it’s fine. She’ll just tell me about being responsible, or something, and – It’s nothing bad, I promise.” It took him several moments to remember what he had learned about his parents last night, suddenly giving him another reason to gasp. “Oh, goodness – _Dean!_ Oh, my goodness!”  


“Christ, _what,_ Cas?” demanded Dean. “I’m trying to drive here!”  


“Sorry!” said Castiel. “I just – I just remembered!” He flailed, struggling to come up with the words to explain. “Last night, Gabriel and I found out that our families think we’re in some secret relationship, or something.”  


Dean snorted. “Yeah,” he said, “I thought so too, until we started talking more, actually.”  


“I – What?” Shaking his head, Castiel gestured animatedly. “Wait, you missed the point, Dean. My _parents_ thought I was dating Gabriel. For years, they thought that.”  


Slowly, Dean’s eyes filled with understanding. “Shit,” he said, “that’s – Cas, that’s great! Your parents don’t give a shit!”  


“They might’ve, at one point,” admitted Castiel. “But they kept quiet about it for so long, had such a long time to get used to it – They’ve made their peace, I suppose.”  


“You – Wait, you have talked to them about it, right?” asked Dean.  


“I didn’t really get a chance. My mom went to work, and I was crying when I got home after I found out about – ,”  


“You cried?” Dean asked, looking at Castiel fondly. “ _Cas._ ”  


“Shut up. Anyway, no, I did not have a chance to talk to my parents about it. It only happened – less than ten hours ago.”  


Dean whistled appreciatively. “Ten hours, huh? Damn, Cas. That’s – Seriously, that’s a big deal!” Just as Dean slowed at a stop light, he looked at Castiel, smiling. “Hey, you know what? What do you say we celebrate?”  


Castiel looked from Baby’s windshield, seeing Dean watching him. “What do you mean?”  


“You haven’t eaten yet, right?”  


“Dean, I don’t have any money.”  


“I do,” insisted Dean. “Plus, I was gonna buy you coffee a second ago and it was fine.”  


“Uh – because you _dragged me_ to your car before I could turn on my family’s coffee machine!” barked Castiel. “Where would we even go? It’s eight o’clock in the morning!”  


“We could go to a diner!” said Dean. “Come on, it’ll be fun! We need to commemorate the occasion, Cas! This is a _big deal_.”  


Castiel hesitated. As much as he wanted to agree with Dean – as much as he wanted to spend time with Dean and do anything Dean ever wanted – he still worried. “I… feel guilty taking your money, though.”  


“Don’t,” said Dean, his tone genuine. “Really, Cas. Come on, I’m not going to regret paying for it after we’ve gone and had fun and eaten, like, pancakes and shit. Then, afterwards, we can watch Jaws and Shawshank!”  


“I – You really want to?” asked Castiel. “Really?”  


“Yes,” said Dean. “Now, am I allowed to turn left instead of going straight? There’s a diner a few streets from here.”  


Castiel gnawed at his lip anxiously. Just as the light turned green and the car ahead of them began to move, Castiel nodded. “Sure. Go left.” 

  


The first order of business was getting a cup of coffee. Castiel was eternally grateful to their waitress, who handed him his mug and took their orders relatively quickly. As Castiel took his first sips, he felt his sanity slowly returning.  


“Okay,” said Castiel, “I’m probably less of an asshole now.”  


“Probably,” joked Dean on the opposite side of their booth. While Castiel drank his coffee, Dean yawned and looked around the diner. “Man, I haven’t been to this place in years.”  


“Really?”  


“I was probably – I dunno – six years old the last time we went?”  


“You have fond memories here?” asked Castiel.  


Dean snorted. “Fuck, yeah, I do,” he said, nodding to the countertop where the pies and pastries were on display. “My mom used to work here.”  


Castiel’s silliness was replaced with – something. It wasn’t sadness or worry, really. Instead, it was more of a solemn acknowledgement that Dean was choosing to talk about it with him. “Was she a waitress?”  


“I think so,” said Dean, squinting at the napkin closest to him. “Yeah, I think I remember her carrying trays and stuff.”  


“What else do you remember about the diner?” asked Castiel.  


“Not much,” admitted Dean. “I used to get chocolate milk, like, _every time._ I think my mom would make jokes about it, actually. And – Sammy was in here, like, at least once. I remember him in a high chair, sitting at the end of the counter.”  


“Well, that sounds nice,” said Castiel kindly.  


“Yeah,” said Dean, faltering. He cleared his throat suddenly, looking up at Castiel and laughing. “Christ, that got depressing. Okay. _Anyway._ ”  


“It’s alright,” Castiel told him. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”  


“Thanks,” mumbled Dean. He glanced at their menus, smiling at Castiel. “So. Who gets waffles instead of pancakes in a diner?”  


“Smart people,” said Castiel seriously. “Very, very smart people.”  


“ _Pancakes,_ Cas,” argued Dean. “Pancakes!”  


“They’re always soggy on the bottom, and it’s weird to get a strawberry on top of your pancakes!” insisted Castiel. “I always get waffles with blueberries and a strawberry. _Always._ ”  


“But what about pancakes with, like, a billion chocolate chips? _Chocolate_ chocolate-chip pancakes!” cried Dean. “They’re godlike!”  


“They’re a stomachache,” corrected Castiel. “How on earth could you eat that much chocolate?”  


“Um, chocolate is amazing,” said Dean. “That’s how.”  


“I prefer strawberry.”  


“In what context?”  


“I dunno. Most of them.”  


“Ice cream?” demanded Dean.  


“Hmm,” said Castiel, “strawberry.”  


“You’re not human. You’re – you’re a gross, not-human person who shouldn’t be allowed to make decisions. What kind of person likes fruit more than chocolate?”  


“When I’m old and gray and I have a house of my own,” said Castiel, “I want to be able to have my own garden behind my house, where I can grow my own fruits and vegetables, like strawberries. It’s a normal dream to have. Owning a chocolate farm, however, when I’m senile – no, that’s not the American Dream.”  


“I beg to differ,” said Dean, “the American Dream is _definitely_ owning a chocolate farm when you’re senile.”  


Castiel laughed around his cup of coffee, the two of them still giggling while their food arrived. “What if – _Wait_ – What if you – ohmygod – What if you go on in life to own, like, Hershey, or something, and you see me in, like, thirty years, and you – We just – _trade_ fruit for chocolate, from our personal stashes.”  


“I think Sammy would be thrilled,” said Dean. “The fucking nerd is one of those ‘your body is a temple’ freaks. He’s barely twelve, and he’s already a dork.”  


“Dean,” said Castiel, “you play Dungeons and Dragons.”  


“Hey, Sammy does too. Any dorky thing we do together cancels out. His independent geekdom _far_ outweighs mine.”  


“If you say so.” Then, gasping, Castiel looked up. “Wait, I finished the book! I never told you!”  


“You finished the book?” cried Dean. “Fuck, Cas! What did you think of the book?”  


The two of them were laughing in-between almost every word. For some reason, Castiel found it incredibly thrilling. There was something perfect about their breakfast outing; he couldn’t put his finger on it, exactly, but he knew that it had something to do with Dean being so kind to him.  


Later that day, when the two of them went to Dean’s house and were situated on the couch, it was comfy. Ellen had given them blankets after the third movie was turned on, leaving them to their own devices. Dean made them hot chocolate that night – and he made a joke about withholding Castiel’s cup if Castiel refused to ‘apologize to chocolate farms around the country.’  


Once they finished Jaws and Shawshank Redemption, Dean talked up a movie called Goodfellas. After Jo made herself her own cup of hot chocolate and went to her bedroom, Dean turned the movie on.  


Castiel, while initially irritated by needless crudity, came to appreciate how iconic the behavior onscreen could be. He noticed that Dean loved the movie – not too long into it, he found himself watching Dean, much like Dean had done to him when they were watching The Exorcist.  


For some lines of the movie, Dean laughed and mumbled along with it. Other times, his eyes were all over the place on the screen, looking perfectly content with the film. He smiled at some parts, winced at others.  


Castiel was unusually entranced by Dean’s utterly normal behaviors. He wasn’t sure why – but something about their morning together at the diner pushed away his discomfort with the idea of being caught. 

Until that very moment, he didn’t even realize how much he _did_ want to look at Dean.  


Dean’s eyes were green. He had freckles on his cheeks, very lightly, but still there. His hair was a very light brown, unlike Castiel’s black. Not only was Dean’s face encapsulating, there was also his _smile_ and how he looked when he bit his lip whenever he felt awkward. Or when he looked shy and he looked at Castiel – _in that way_ – that made Castiel feel so fond.  


“Cas?” asked Dean. He was a deer in headlights, looking at Castiel in that exact way. He bit his lip, as awkward as ever. His eyes widened when Castiel’s eyes tracked the movement.  


Immediately, Castiel realized that the sudden tension was crossing a line. He looked Dean in the eyes, certain that they were never going to talk about it ever again – when he noticed Dean glancing down at Castiel’s mouth.  


Castiel’s jaw fell open in shock, his heart doing a – thing. He felt giddy and nervous and stupid because Dean Winchester was looking at him like that, the exact way he was looking at _him._ It was weirdly amazing and miraculous, and he couldn’t understand why Dean Winchester would ever look at him like that.  


“U-um,” said Dean, suddenly looking anywhere but at Castiel. “So, you like the movie so far?”  


Castiel closed his mouth, ducking his head to try to hide how red his face had probably gotten. “I – It’s – interesting.”  


Dean laughed quietly. “Yeah, it – it’s kind of blunt.”  


“It is,” agreed Castiel. “But that’s part of its charm.”  


“You are definitely right about that,” admitted Dean with a laugh. Without another glance or word exchanged on the sudden change of pace to their friendship, the two went back to their movie. 

  


The night before the end of winter break, Castiel peeked his head into his parent’s bedroom. It was late, and his mother was reading a book while his father watched the television above the armoire. He awkwardly tiptoed his way into the bedroom and looked between them, fidgeting as they noticed him.  


“Hi, Honey Bee,” his mother said. “You going to bed now?”  


“Um – Not yet. I was – I was actually hoping that I could talk to you. B-both of you.”  


His parents both looked at him, sufficiently concerned with the idea of their only son seeking them both out in hopes of what must have been a serious conversation. Naomi put down her book, and Zachariah shut off the television while Castiel shut the door behind him and walked up to the bed.  


“Is everything alright?” his father asked cautiously.  


Castiel nodded. “Yes, it’s not – it’s not really a bad thing. I mean, it’s – It’s not bad news, I don’t think.”  


“You don’t think?” repeated Zachariah. “How are you not sure if – ?”  


“Zach,” grumbled Naomi, interrupting. “Let our son tell us what he wants to say.”  


“I wasn’t – _Ugh._ Fine.” Zachariah gestured Castiel onward. “Go ahead, Castiel. Tell us whatever’s on your mind, son.”  


“Um,” said Castiel, sitting down on the edge of their bed and suddenly feeling a pit in his stomach. He knew that the odds were far in his favor, but there was still a nagging thought in the back of his mind. Some small voice screaming that it was a horrible, _terrible_ idea. “Well, it’s – it’s about me. As a person.”  


“O…kay,” said Zachariah. “What about you, as a person?”  


“It’s – I mean, it’s not really something to explain, really, just – Something I should say to you because, really, it – it’s not – ,”  


“ _Castiel,_ ” his father said sternly.  


Castiel took a deep breath. Then, forcing the words out, he said, loud and clear: “I’m gay.”  


His parents, as the words settled in, relaxed. “Oh,” said Zachariah. “You – Castiel, it’s alright. That’s not a bad thing. We love you very much.”  


“Very, _very_ much,” Naomi insisted, her voice sincere. “Okay?”  


“Yes,” said Castiel, looking between them gratefully. “Thank you…”  


“Is that everything you wanted to tell us?” asked Naomi.  


“Yes,” he said again. Then, hesitating, he added, “I love you.”  


“Oh, _Honey Bee,_ ” his mother said, getting up from her spot on the bed to pull her oldest child into a hug. While Castiel awkwardly accepted the embrace, Zachariah chuckled at how awkward he appeared to be. “We love you so much. Nothing is changing that, ever.”  


“Thank you,” he said again.  


As he started to leave their room, his father called after him. “Castiel?” he said. “Love you too, son.”

  


“So, that’s it?” asked Gabriel. “That’s the end of the Story of How Cassy Came Out of the Closet? That’s the big, grand ending to what you’re going to tell people when they ask – you’re going to tell them that you found out your parents didn’t judge because of a _gay conspiracy._ ”  


“Well,” mused Castiel, peering at the frosting Gabriel was beating together, “I’m not sure if I’ll use that exact turn of phrase, but – that does sound correct.”  


Gabriel hummed quietly. “It’s quite a tale,” he muttered. As he reached over the mixer to unhook the bowl, Castiel leaned forward and very quickly stole a dollop of frosting on his finger, promptly licking it. 

“Dude, come on! This frosting is for charity! Have a heart!”  


“I’d be doing it if it wasn’t for charity, though,” pointed out Castiel. “Besides, it’s your own fault for not stopping me. I do it _every time._ ”  


“Ugh. I hate that you’re right.” He picked up the frosting and brought it to the cupcakes waiting for him, picking up the spreading spatula from a drawer and getting started on the slow process while they talked.  


“I’m still going to be allowed to eat a cupcake, right?” asked Castiel.  


“ _Charity,_ Castiel,” said Gabriel. “I am doing this out of the goodness of my own heart!”  


“You’re only doing this because your parents told you to!”  


“Ugh. You can have whichever cupcake has the most fucked-up icing job.”  


While Gabriel worked, Castiel leaned against the countertop. Not for the first time, Castiel’s mind wandered to Dean. He wondered what Dean was doing at that very moment, if Dean was thinking about the next film for their movie nights.  


“Cassy?” asked Gabriel, reclaiming Castiel’s attention. “Hey, um – Not to be weird or anything, you know? But – I mean, I’m proud of you.”  


Castiel looked up from the tray of pre-frosted cupcakes, smiling at Gabriel fondly. “I didn’t exactly do anything, but – Thank you.”  


“Yeah, you did,” insisted Gabriel. “And I don’t just mean telling your parents, bro, I’m talking about the stuff with Dean.”  


“What stuff with Dean?”  


“Dungeons and Dragons,” he said. “Movie nights. Spontaneous diner adventures. You’re, like, _growing._ As a _person._ It’s – honestly, it’s _very_ thrilling to see. I enjoy my front-row-seat as the Best Friend-slash-Brother.”  


They returned to an amiable silence. Gabriel finished frosting the cupcakes, and went to the cupboard to get a tub of sprinkles. As he passed Castiel with the sprinkles, Castiel hesitated. “Gabriel?”  


“Yeah, Cassy?”  


“Um. So – we don’t really ever say it,” said Castiel awkwardly, “because it’s – I mean, like you said, ‘Best Friend-slash-Brother.’ It’s an unspoken title, really, and – Honestly, it’s just weird to – ,”  


“Cassy,” pressed Gabriel, raising an accusatory eyebrow.  


Castiel shrugged, looking down at the cupcakes again. He noticed the most poorly frosted cupcake and, while he had the immediate urge to snatch it up, he repressed it for the time being. “I – I love you. You’re really the closest thing I’ll ever get to a brother, I think, and – You’re just always there for me. So, thank you, and I love you.”  


“Aww,” cooed Gabriel, inspired enough to drop his tub on sprinkles onto the counter and trot towards Castiel for a bro hug. “Don’t be silly, Cassy! I’m pretty sure Sam Winchester is a viable candidate, at the rate you’re going.”  


“I – Wait, what?”  


“Nothing,” said Gabriel, a bit too quickly. Smiling far too happily for Castiel’s comfort, Gabriel hugged him. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave you hanging. I love you too – ,”  


Something behind Castiel squeaked on the floor. Startled, Castiel turned from Gabriel and his hug – only to see the retreating steps of one of Gabriel’s brothers. “Uh – did he just – ?”  


“ _Fuck my life!_ ” cried Gabriel. “That is _it!_ You – you need to get a boyfriend, and – and I need to get a girlfriend, ‘cause – They are _convinced_ that you and I are going to get gay-married someday, with two-point-five kids and a white fence!”  


During Gabriel’s rant, Castiel picked up the worst-frosted cupcake and innocently bit into it. He listened to his best friend’s frantic thinking, content more than ever with food and company.  


“Mittens!” barked Gabriel. “Did you hear what I said? Pay less attention to the food and more to _me!_ I’m trying to tell you about our wedding!”  


“Our wedding?”  


“Yes!” said Gabriel. “My mom started telling me about how she and Naomi have talked about our wedding song. Apparently our first dance is to Sinatra.”  


“Um. Classy?”  


“ _No!_ ” said Gabriel. “I mean – yes – but that’s not the point! I don’t want to have a wedding song with you! Why does the fact that I’m a guy who says I’m not gay mean that I’m in denial? And why are they so _sure?_ It’s infuriating!”  


“Well,” said Castiel helpfully, as he licked a bit of frosting off his finger, “worst comes to worst, we could always elope.” 

  


Dean made a habit of driving Castiel around their hometown. They frequented the diner and the movie theater, went on bowling excursions with Sam and his friends Kevin and Jess, and found themselves talking or driving or watching movies almost every day.  


It was inevitable, really. Castiel should not have been so disturbed when he found Dean sitting in the dining room of his house, waiting for him, with Zachariah Milton on his left. Castiel wandered into the kitchen, about to turn the coffee machine on, when he noticed the pair in a painful silence.  


“Oh,” said Castiel, his eyes widening. “Dean, you – I didn’t realize you were here!”  


Dean laughed nervously, glancing back and forth from Zachariah to Castiel, looking quite desperate. “Yeah, I got here a few minutes ago. Ah – You ready?”  


“Oh, I was – Sure.” Something strangely tense in the air irked Castiel enough to consider forgoing coffee. He started for the hallway closet, where his coat was waiting for him.  


“Castiel,” his father said to him while he looked for his belongings. “I was just saying hello to your friend, here. I’ve noticed that you spend a lot of time together.”  


“I – Yeah, Dad,” said Castiel, his movements to search for his coat hastening. “He’s – He’s a friend of mine, and we’ve been hanging out.”  


“Hmm,” said Zachariah. “I was thinking about it recently, and I noticed that you seem to see to your little friend ‘Dean’ more than Gabriel. Your mother called me crazy, but – _here_ he is, again…”  


Castiel found his tan coat and quickly pulled it off the hanger, rushing back into the dining room and gesturing to Dean. “Okay,” he said, “let’s go.”  


Dean started to stand, relieved beyond measure. He was horribly disappointed when Zachariah stood with them, facing Dean and holding out a hand. “Well,” said Zachariah, “it was a pleasure finally meeting you, son.”  


“It was – It was nice to meet you too, sir,” said Dean.  


They shook hands while Castiel gawked at the two of them until – finally – he could usher Dean his way, out of the house. Dean looked thankful to have gotten out of dodge. As they both entered Baby (Castiel _hated_ that Dean insisted he recognize the car by name), they were silent. It wasn’t until Dean pulled out of the driveway and turned down the street that Castiel allowed himself to say anything.  


“So,” he said. “You – met my dad.”  


“I did,” said Dean. “He didn’t like me.”  


“What? No, he didn’t – He didn’t not like you,” insisted Castiel, “he just – I dunno.”  


“Cas, that man _hated_ me,” insisted Dean. “Did you see the look on his face? Christ. I’m totally the other woman, in his eyes.”  


“ _Excuse me?_ ”  


“Your family’s convinced Gabriel Shurley is your soulmate,” said Dean, as if it were the most obvious thing in the entire world. “He’s probably the Golden Son-in-Law. Your dad thinks I’m – like – your mistress – mastress? No, wait – ?”  


“Dean. Women are mistresses, men are lovers. And – that’s absurd!” argued Castiel. “My dad doesn’t even like Gabriel! He thinks he’s a bad influence and a prank-savvy troublemaker. He blames Gabriel for half of the bad things I ever get involved in. If anything, he would thank you for ‘stealing me away’ if he thought you were my ‘lover.’”  


Dean made a right turn, weighing the possibilities. “Soooo,” he said, “he’s just overprotective, then? _Great._ He’ll always hate me, then.”  


“Wh – My father is not overprotective! You’re acting completely ridiculous!”  


“You _just said_ to me, Cas, that _on principle_ , your dad has hated Gabriel for as long as you can remember. While under the impression that the two of you were – like – _lovers._ Now, I show up, and then your dad – on principle – doesn’t like me. And he also happened to ‘notice’ that you and I hang out so much, we’re practically joined to the hip by this point.”  


“Yes,” said Castiel sharply, “because we’re _friends_ , Dean, and – my dad isn’t a bad person!”  


“I didn’t say your dad was a bad person, I said that he didn’t like me.”  


“Well,” snapped Castiel, “then it’s probably a good thing that you’re _not_ my lover.”  


Dean faltered, looking over at Castiel. He frowned while Castiel stewed in his anger, puzzled. “I – Wait, did we just get into a fight?” asked Dean. “Fuck, we did, didn’t we? Okay, dude, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to piss you off.”  


“It’s fine, Dean.”  


“No, it’s not,” insisted Dean, “you look _so_ upset. Fuck. I’m sorry!” He parked Baby in the Starbucks parking lot, turning to Castiel once the car was shut off. “Hey, I really didn’t mean for you to get upset.”  


“I know,” Castiel grumbled. “I’m just – It’s fine. I’m sorry, too.”  


“We gonna get coffee?” asked Dean, nodding to the shop behind them. “It might help the bitchiness.”  


“Wh – I am _not_ bitchy, Dean Winchester!”  


“Hmm. Brat.” They exited the car, swatting at each other as they walked up the ramp to the establishment. Together, they took a seat at a table. Castiel took both of their orders to the counter, ignoring Dean’s complaints about Starbucks being a ‘gross hipster paradise.’  


He ordered them their drinks – his own black coffee and Dean’s toothache in a cup. While he waited for the barista to hand off his order, he noticed a familiar girl standing against the countertop, scrolling on her phone with earbuds in.  


Meg Masters was in her own little world. Castiel was hesitant to say anything – it had been a very long time since the two had spoken, and the last time they had done it, it didn’t end well for either of them. 

He wasn’t sure if they were even really friends anymore, given the circumstances.  


After another minute without either of their drinks being served, Castiel bucked up enough courage to nudge her shoulder. She startled, turning to him and pulling her earbuds out as she slowly began to smile. “Aw, hey, Angel,” she said, regarding him thoughtfully. “Long time, no see.”  


“Hello, Meg,” he replied amiably. “How are you?”  


“Oooh. I manage,” she said, shrugging limply. “How about you? How’ve you been?”  


“I’m well,” he said. “I’ve missed you.”  


“Nonsense,” she said. “You’ve got Gabriel – I _dare you_ to name a more iconic duo.”  


Castiel shrugged. “Still,” he said, “I did miss you.”  


“Hmm. I’m nothing special.”  


“You are _very_ special,” he insisted. “Who else could convince me to go with them to a Halloween party? I’m a recluse, at best.”  


Meg’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Well, thanks, hon,” she said, smiling at him. “Seriously, though – _fuck,_ man. I didn’t realize how much I missed you until right now. You’re always really sweet, Castiel. You know that?”  


Castiel was not sure of this. “Most people tell me that I’m rude, or abrasive. Thank you, though. You’re always nice, too.”  


“No, I’m not,” said Meg, rolling her eyes. “Now you’re just lying to me. I am a fucking bitch.”  


“Meg,” he said, “do _not_ talk about yourself like that.”  


She looked at him – and something in her gaze brought him to a pause. She was fondly watching him, her lips quirked into a loving smile. “Well, gee, Clarence,” she said, “I feel better about myself already.”  


He frowned at this. “I still don’t know who Clarence is,” he told her, tilting his head curiously.  


“Would it kill you to watch a movie?” she teased. “Maybe read a book?”  


“A movie, no. But a book, thrown at the proper trajectory – yes, of course.”  


Meg grinned – and he wondered, vaguely, if it was a good or bad sign that she and Dean Winchester were the only people who ever seemed to truly find him funny. He and Gabriel had their jokes, sure, but Dean and Meg would always be different.  


“Yo, Cas!” called Dean suddenly, heading up from their table with his wallet. “Dude, I think Sammy gave me a coupon for – like – a brownie or a muffin or some shit, s – ,” He stopped, his eyes landing on Meg. His mouth opened, shocked for a moment, until he smiled. “Oh, uh – Hey, Masters.”  


Meg raised an eyebrow at him. “Hey,” she said, looking back at Castiel. “Wait, are you two…?”  


“We’re friends now,” said Castiel, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat. He ducked his head, hiding himself and the blush on his cheeks from the very obvious assumption Meg almost asked. “I suppose I have you to thank for that, in a way.”  


“Wow,” said Meg. “Serendipity, huh?”  


Dean looked between Castiel and Meg, nodding and holding out the coupon to Castiel. “Um – you want it?”  


“Oh,” said Castiel, “it’s alright.”  


“You can get a brownie, though. Or a muffin. Seriously, feel free.”  


“Dean, it’s _your_ money.”  


“Exactly!” said Dean. “So, use the coupon. Have at it. When you get a job, we can go all out. Sound good?”  


Reluctantly, Castiel accepted the small token. Just before Dean departed for their table, though, he added, “We’re sharing a cookie.”  


“Sounds great, Cas.” Dean waved goodbye to Meg and went back to their table.  


Meg and Castiel were left by the counter. Just as Dean went on his way, the barista called an order and Meg took up her latte gratefully. Not a few moments later, Castiel’s order was called.  


“Um,” said Castiel. “I’m – going to give this to Dean and then get back on line.”  


Meg positively beamed at him. “Well, go on, then.”  


“O-okay.”  


“Hey, Castiel?”  


“Yes?”  


“Congratulations on finally getting your wings, Clarence.” Her tone was goofy and fun-loving, and she offered no explanation as she strutted her way out of the Starbucks.  


Castiel placed down their drinks, giving Dean his with a joking ‘here is your diabetes in a cup.’ When he returned with a cookie filled with M&Ms, they broke it in half and had their fun.  


While Dean ate his side of the cookie, he tapped his finger against the side of the table. He probably had a song stuck in his head, perhaps – he was clearly lost in a train of thought as his pretty green eyes wandered the Starbucks, his body swaying.  


Castiel smiled into his cup of coffee. Considering how irritating he had thought Dean Winchester was not too long ago, it was ironic how endearing he found all of his quirks – including the constant singing and popular culture-referencing.  


Knowing this about Dean, in fact, gave him an idea. “Hey, Dean?”  


“Yeah?” asked Dean, licking a bit of chocolate off his thumb and quickly wiping it on a napkin. He looked slightly guilty as he did this, especially when Castiel snorted loudly. “Shut up. What is it?”  


“You’re very knowledgeable when it comes to films and popular culture,” inferred Castiel. “Do you think you could tell me what movie a character named Clarence is from?”  


“Clarence?” said Dean. “Uh…”  


“Something about – ‘getting wings.’ I dunno. It sounded like a joke I would only understand if I watched the movie, but – I mean, I don’t – ,”  


“No, yeah,” said Dean, nodding. “I know what movie that is.”  


“You do?”  


“Yeah. It’s a Wonderful Life,” said Dean. “It’s one of those old black-and-white movies.”  


“Oh. I’ll have to look it up,” said Castiel thoughtfully. He looked back down at his coffee and took a ginger sip, wondering if he would be able to find a movie that was that old. He wondered if the Internet would ever mention it.  


Dean said, “Hey, you know what? It’s actually pretty seasonally appropriate, this time of year. You want to give it a go?”  


“I – You want to watch it with me?” asked Castiel. “Is it a violent movie, or – ?”  


“No,” said Dean, “but it’s definitely iconic. Plus, I think you’ll probably like it. It’s probably more your speed than mine, to be honest. Sammy’s the one who really likes it, but – if you want to watch it, I’m there. Are you in?”  


“I’ll watch any movie you suggest,” answered Castiel. “Go anywhere you ask me to, in fact.”  


“Sweet,” said Dean, “then I know what we’re watching tonight.”

**Author's Note:**

> You made it!! Whether or not you skipped through some parts, hated the story, or loved it to bits - I thank you, and I salute you.  
> If you enjoyed this story, give me kudos or - PLEASE - comment!! I absolutely would love to hear of any and all feedback. On top of that, if you notice some tags that I should add or subtract from the information on this story, help me, because I suck at tags (in case you hadn't realized already.)
> 
> All credit for the characters, of course, go to the writers of Supernatural and the actors who portray them. (Still, it's fun to fantasize, you know?)
> 
> I’m thinking about writing another separate story about these characters as a short continuation. Thoughts?


End file.
